


Tender

by vermilionvice



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Broody Fenris (Dragon Age), Dom Fenris (Dragon Age), F/M, Fenris teaching Hawke to fight, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits Hawke/Isabela (Dragon Age), Grumpy Fenris (Dragon Age), Hawke never shutting up, Hawke teaching Fenris to read, Humor, Light Angst, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Sarcasm, Slow Burn, Smut, Sparring, Talkative Sex, They're both oblivious, anxious Hawke, best friend isabela, its more of platonic sex, kind of, lots of pinning, mostly them just being stubborn and unable to communicate like adults about their feelings, pinning during sparring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 12:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermilionvice/pseuds/vermilionvice
Summary: Aranea Hawke is the anxious leader who never knows when to stop talking. Fenris is the broody dude who doesn't mind listening. When Hawke needs a new sparring partner, Fenris doesn't mind knocking her around a bit, and in return Hawke offers to teach him to read. Obviously they're both hopeless fools falling in love.FenHawke because I'm a trashcan - this is part one of three. There's sarcasm, fluff, fools trying their darnedest to deal with their crushes like adults, Varric being a bro, Isabela being a wingman, and feelings. So many repressed feelings. E rating for the last scene! Enjoy friendos.





	Tender

Tender  
….

Hawke figured that the Deep Roads Expedition she had signed up for would procure a small bit of capital. While it was her best (and only) option to gain influence, wealth, and in turn, protection, she couldn’t be completely sure it would yield anything but untimely deaths for all of them. What a happy thought to keep her up at night.

Which was why she told Carver to stay home. Mother was right, if they both died…. Hawke couldn’t risk her brother’s life. Regardless of the fact that he was a tactless cad more often than not, she loved him. And she couldn’t bear to put mother through the agony of watching both of her living children descend to their deaths. Not if she could help it. 

While she made light of it, as always, she truly wouldn’t be going if it wasn’t her only option. She was scared shitless, but hid it with sarcasm and bravado as usual. 

She almost had felt the rift between her and Carver widen as she turned her back on him. Fenris, Varric, and Isabela followed her closely despite the tension that radiated from the Hawke siblings. 

When Hawke looked back, the betrayal was written all over Carver’s face. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. She truly did want her brother at her side, like always. But it would be…. better this way. She hoped. She pleaded with herself to believe it was true. He always resented her for being the one everyone turned to, for making all the decisions. But they bore down on his sister like he would never comprehend. The hardest part with making all the decisions, was living with them afterwards. And taking on the blame. Hawke would never forget the look on mother’s face when Bethany died. Accusatory. Her fault, she had made the decision to show off and fight. The eldest Hawke hadn’t paid close enough attention to save her sister. She would not make this mistake twice.

No matter what she thought was best, no matter if her solutions could help the most people, she would find resentment along the way. It was already beginning to eat away at her but Hawke could live with it, if it meant that others did not have to.

She was never very good at hiding her emotions, and Isabela clicked her tongue at the look on her face, “Awe, love… he’ll come around. He always does.” she comforted, and rapped her knuckles across Hawke’s shoulders as she moved to walk beside her.

Hawke smoothed her expression, shrugging one shoulder in response, “No, I don’t think he will this time.” Though she held her head high and led on with a smirk plastered on her face. What else was there to do but endure? She wanted to live, she wanted her family to live and be happy. This may ensure that. 

But she was right about Carver, though Hawke took little pleasure in being right this particular time - she usually would be smug about it. 

Following their return from the Deep Roads, which went pretty horrible before it went pretty good (which was how most of the shit Hawke dealt with in Kirkwall went), she came home with good news to find her brother had joined the Templars while she was gone.

“Wow, Carver,” she drawled in a mocking tone, “You move fast when I’m not around,” She gave the haughty comment as she took in the sight of him in the armor she loathed. She wanted to scorch the Templar insignia from it. And then throttle him a little bit. 

He tipped his chin up at her, “Not everything has to do with you, sister,” he replied in a tone much too similar to hers. It made her heart pang. She had missed him, and now she was almost obligated to be an asshole about this. The Templars. Really. Two apostate sisters, and he thinks the Templars are a good idea. Again, Hawke wanted to knock some sense into his head. 

“Really? That’s weird, because this seems oddly personal from where I’m standing,” she said as lightly as possible, with a smirk but the daggers in her eyes were betraying her true feelings easily. She would have to get better at a poker face, but her friends and family always made the cracks worse. Usually she was able to keep herself more cool and level-headed, but that was leader mode. This was big sister mode and she was pissed at her whiny little brother and the shit he was pulling.

Carver glared at Aranea, “I wanted to be something more than myself. More than you.” 

“Oh! So it is personal. Wonderful, I’m so pleased I just spent three weeks swimming in Darkspawn for you and mother to come back to this bullshit,” she spit back in a flurry. She hadn't meant to argue like this but now she was angry on top of being exhausted. 

Carver groaned, slapping his hand over his eyes and dragging it down his face, “Oh please don’t pretend you did this selflessly, it’s insulting.”

Aranea glared at him, “I told you. If I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t have. You didn’t have to go, so you didn’t. Believe you me, brother, you did not want to venture into the cesspool of the Deep Roads. There is no glory in dying in that ditch.” 

“Yeah, well tell Bethany that. Your sister who died in a ditch in Fereldan. Killed by darkspawn.” 

Hawke threw her hands in the air, “Its like you spent the past near-month sitting around stewing up hurtful shit to do and say to me when I got back!” she shouted, turning and walking away from him. Aranea truly thought she was protecting Carver by insisting he stay home with mother. She had half-expected him to follow them to the Deep Roads anyways, he had seen the maps they’d procured. It was evident that she had only succeeded in pushing him away, into the arms of the Templar Order. She pinched the bridge of her nose, pushing back the angry and hurt tears that gathered in her eyes. 

He didn’t respond right away. Maybe he had spent many nights thinking of how this would go if and when she returned. We always want to use the good comebacks we come up with for hypothetical scenarios. He was probably sitting on that zinger for days, ready to make her hurt. She wondered if there was guilt in his chest now, like there was in hers.

“Aranea. This isn’t about you or Bethany. This is about me, doing something with my life.” Closest she’d get by way of apology, she guessed. It wasn’t enough. It only made her more angry in the moment. 

“You can’t be blind to how this looks and feels, Carver. We were planning to join this expedition to, apparently, keep me safe from the Templars with money and influence. And since you couldn’t come you decided to them… join the Templars.” 

He sighed, “Things changed when you left me behind.” 

The eldest Hawke barked a laugh without humor, “Things don’t change that quickly in three weeks. They don’t. I know, I’ve been trying to change shit around here for a year and a half.” 

“You know I’ve always wanted more than your shadow.”

Aranea scoffed, “There are plenty of other ways, Carver. And I’m not going to sit here all night and explain to you why this is so shitty, because you know. And I’m not going to apologize for how you feel. If you think you really think you’re the one who got fucked over here, please get a reality check. If the Templars allow that or whatever. Have fun being addicted to lyrium and bothering innocent mages, I guess.” 

Their mother emerged from the adjacent room in Gamlen’s house to try and stop her from leaving, having listened to their conversation closely in the cramped space. The elder Hawke was glad Gamlen himself wasn’t home to butt in with his two cents. 

“Welcome home, eh?” Were her sarcastic parting words as she slipped her arm from Leandra’s grasp and left. She didn’t slam the door but it shut with a note of finality. Hawke didn’t think Carver would be there when she returned. If she ever returned - she had half a mind to camp out in Isabela’s rented room until Varric sold off their bounty from the Deep Roads. Then she’d buy a house of her own, move mother in, and never step foot in Gamlen’s house again.

Her feet knew where she was headed even if she didn’t, and she found herself at The Hanged Man after being lost in her thoughts. She was lucky there wasn’t a group of bandits on her walk there. Or maybe they had the good sense not to even try to challenge Aranea Hawke - her efforts had not gone completely unnoticed in Kirkwall, she was a person who got things done. And she survived a three-week expedition in the Deep Roads. The look on her fuming face mixed with those facts absolutely screamed, “Do Not Fuck with Me”. 

When she entered, she scanned the room for familiar faces. No dice. Varric was either sleeping by now or working on finding Bartrand’s location. Hawke expected Isabela to be drinking, but her usual seat was vacant. Sighing, she took the stool and waved down the barkeep. Even the swill they served here would be welcome. 

Hawke drank in silence. She supposed it would be better to seek out a friend and talk this out, but the thought of dumping her shallow problems on any of her friends, who all had real, devastating issues in their lives, made her feel even worse. Sick to her stomach, even, but that could easily be the ale. 

Merrill was alienated from her clan, Isabela had recently been shipwrecked, Fenris was an elven Tevinter refugee and was once a slave, Anders had been a Grey Warden and was targeted as a mage, had recently lost his best friend, Aveline’s husband died in the Blight, and Varric…. well Varric rarely gave a straight answer but Hawke had heard sadness behind his voice once or twice. 

She didn’t think her bickering with her prickly brother was really enough to complain about. And her own loss of Bethany was her own fault so, she didn’t count it. 

Time passed and the guilt settled in. She was the older sister, she should have taken responsibility for her actions and apologized instead of jumping on her brother immediately. But to see him adorned in their seal made her blood boil. Her brother, a mage hunter. She even now could feel the magic humming under her skin, a gift and a curse simultaneously. It reminded her of his betrayal with every beat of her heart, but at the same time she wished she could rip it out and leave the scar of “apostate” behind. But it was also beautiful - she could do lovely things with magic, beyond her combat prowess.

“Hawke, you are not the person I expected to see here,” a familiar, gravelly matter-of-fact tone. She tipped her chin over her shoulder to meet Fenris’ eyes. 

“Sorry to disappoint,” she said with her usual light air but the words were genuine, and betrayed her internal sadness to her own ears. She wondered briefly if he noticed. She wanted someone to notice.

He frowned a bit, “I would not say it is disappointing, only surprising,” he refuted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “I figured that you would be with your family on the eve of our return.” 

Hawke shrugged, “Me too,” she responded flippantly, but she was lacking a usual one-liner. She blamed it on her exhaustion and slight buzz, and tried to ignore the sadness creeping up her spine. 

When she didn’t say anything more, Fenris waiting a moment in silence before following up with, “Can I sit?” 

“Don’t see why not,” Hawke mumbled into her pint, and Fenris took the chair next to her. He ordered something and she commented, “I thought you only liked Tevinter wine.”

He glanced over, seeming to be a bit surprised that she remembered, “I think I can suffer a pint or two, to celebrate our safe return.” 

‘Or to not let me look a pathetic drunk by letting me drink alone,’ she thought bitterly, though tried to quell her prickly attitude. Fenris had done nothing wrong, had saved her ass a good few times in the Deep Roads. She owed him at least amicability despite their own differing opinions on mages and templars. 

She smirked, lifting her tankard to clink against his, “To us, then. Glad you didn’t die.” She cheered to lift the mood, then emptied her drink and slapped her hand on the bar to get the keep’s attention for another. Hawke didn’t want to fight with anyone for at least a week, though her shitty mood tried to get her to bite. 

His lips quirked into a smirk to mirror hers, “I… am glad you did not die as well,” he returned, taking a slower drink of his as he watched her profile, “I doubt anyone else among us would be as effective of a leader.”

Hawke barked a laugh, “You mean to say that I’m the best babysitter around for our little band of misfits and all the vagrants of Kirkwall,” she corrected, and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement, hiding his own smile in another drink. 

They faded into silence, and Hawke thought about it and came to realize that this was one of the first times they’d been alone, outside of his mansion, anyways. Most of the time they traveled in a group of three or four, depending on who was available to help Hawke around Kirkwall. Fenris being one of the two warriors she knew and that she could tolerate in large doses, the other being a busy guardswoman, they had spent a lot of time traveling around Kirkwall and the outskirts of the city together since they joined up. Despite being generally comfortable with each other’s presence, Hawke wasn’t sure how to talk to him one-on-one. 

Well, at least Hawke had a talent for generally talking too much, so she put it to good use to fill the silence. While it wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable one, she tended to fill silences, “So, now that we’ve returned from our soon to be Tethras-stamped legendary expedition to the Deep Roads, what are you gonna do with your share?”

Fenris blinked and oh, Isabela was right he did have pretty eyes. Hawke couldn’t help but swoon a little bit, but she blamed the alcohol. Dumb crush is dumb, he probably wouldn’t even consider being romantically involved with a mage. But he was… real handsome. More handsome than any man she’d seen in Lothering. Though, it had been a while since Hawke been interested in a man, she generally preferred women. 

‘Don’t do anything stupid because you’re getting drunk and emotional, Hawke,’ smart, sober Hawke said somewhere in the background of her mind. She was mildly aware of her tendency to try and sabotage relationships to push people away, particularly since her father died.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” he admitted, “I was more concerned with getting out of there alive after the dwarf’s brother double crossed us.” Hawke’s bottom lip jutted out as she nodded her head slowly in understanding.

“Makes sense. I’m sorry it turned out the way it did, it was supposed to be dangerous but not quite… that dangerous.” 

Fenris shrugged, “No need to apologize, it was not your doing. And you got us out, and suggested to split the spoils though it cuts into your own gain.” 

Aranea shrugged back at him, “What kind of person would I be if I dragged you all with me and gave you nothing for saving my ass and helping me defeat a giant red… skeleton… rock…. demon? I still don’t know what that was.” 

“You would be very similar to the majority of greedy humans in the world,” he pointed out, “But you are rather extraordinary, as it seems. You faced that giant red skeleton rock demon without flinching.”

Hawke ducked her head a little, she wasn’t exactly used to praise from Fenris.

“Yeah well. I’ve seen worse.” 

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, I’m a big liar. I really haven’t seen much worse. But you’re the one who has to get all up in its face with your sword and stuff. I just kinda stand back and… pew pew.” 

“Pew... pew?”

She grinned, a bit sheepishly but mostly amused. To hear Fenris’ gravelly, serious voice repeat her flippant choice of words was funny, “Y’know, pew pew. Firing off spells.”

“I was not aware that staves went pew pew when firing spells.”

“I mean they don’t really, it’s just the sound I make in my head.” she explained, before feeling embarrassment creep up her neck, “Sorry, I’m drunk. Listen, the point is you have that real bravery while I kinda just do my mage thing on the sidelines.” Oh great, now they were talking about magic and shit, the exact topic she wanted to avoid right now, for multiple reasons. She once again downed her drink before ordering another. Maybe if she just drank enough to forget this whole mess.

They were quiet for a moment, Hawke’s foot anxiously tapping against the leg of her barstool. She didn’t know what to say, every emotion she wanted to express pushed against her to try and spill forth but she kept herself from turning into a blabbering mess as best she could. She wanted Isabela, or Merrill. Not Varric, she was going to cry and she didn’t want him putting that shit in one of his books. Aranea Hawke did not cry publicly at the Hanged Man. 

“Oh! Hawke!” Sweet relief it was almost like Hawke cast a spell to make Isabela appear, her friend slug an arm around her shoulders and leaned on her, “And Fenris! I can’t believe you guys started the party without me. Barkeep let’s get another round over here! This one’s on me, gotta congratulate ourselves on a heist well done, and part of that is drinking ourselves silly to remind ourselves what it is to be alive.” 

Hawke was down with that, she wanted to bury the icky feelings in good ones... or no ones at all. She didn’t want to get sad drunk when they should be celebrating their safe return. She wished Merrill and Varric were there, then they could grab a table and play some cards. 

“With what coin are you treating us, Isabela? Last I heard you still owed Varric from Wicked Grace,” she goaded as she slipped an arm around Isabela’s middle as she raised her tankard to her lips.

Isabela smirked, “The bastard will keep it from my share I’m sure of it, then swindle more out of me at the next game. The rest of it will probably go towards my tab anyways.”

Another drink was set in front of each of them, Isabela drinking heartily to catch up to Hawke. Fenris drank as well, though after he’d finish Isabela’s offered drink he stood and turned to leave.

“Awe, you’re ditching us for a better party, Fenris?” Isabela quirked an eyebrow at their partner, “What, are there possibly two even more beautiful people in Kirkwall to spend your evening with?”

He turned to look over his shoulder, “I couldn’t say, but I’ll leave you to your party.” Hawke frowned a bit that he didn’t want to stick around but tried not to dwell. She and Isabela got pretty obnoxious together, and he had kept her company while she was drinking alone. She appreciated that. Hawke turned her chin over her shoulder and watched him go. 

*****

Aranea did end up spending a few nights with Isabela, not wanting to return to her uncle’s closet of a house. She was sick of it… and she was guilty. She didn’t want to face them.

The two of them spent the time talking, drinking, and fucking - the three things they were best at. Though not necessarily in that order. 

Luckily for her, Varric sold off a good chunk of their bounty of Deep Roads treasure more quickly than Hawke had expected. And he had been right, even adding the extra two shares for Isabela and Fenris (it really was only one more share since Bartrand was nowhere to be found) they had made a small fortune each.

Aranea put it towards a new house immediately, she was able to get the one that had been their family’s home, thanks to her mother’s lobbying to raise their name back into nobility. Though, money talks just as loud. The Amell Estate was now the Hawke Estate, and they moved in immediately - welcoming Bodahn Feddic and his son Sandal as well. Leandra had commented that they had plenty of room, and Hawke’s brain filled in her siblings’ names in the blanks. Because Carver and Bethany were no longer living with them. And they’d left Gamlen in Lowtown. He was too proud to accept a room in their house, and Hawke hadn’t offered. 

Hawke tried to fill the empty space with friends, and after she had the place furnished to her liking, spending the second round of profit to do so. She had another payment coming once Varric sold the last of their findings, she was glad to put her money into the walls of her mother’s childhood house. Besides, Aranea could always make more. She wanted something solid for her mother, and for herself. And she needed something to distract herself. 

Once she’d finished decorating, she invited her friends over instead of going to the bar every time they wanted to get together. Bring your own spirits led to an interesting mix. They moved their weekly game of Wicked Grace biweekly to her home - every other week they still made a ruckus in the Hanged Man. Sometimes when mother was home she would play a round with them all, she always won when she did.

It was good. It was a nice big distraction for the grief Hawke had yet to face inside of her. She trained hard with her companions, read any book on magic that she could get her hands on, and was as good of a friend as she could be. If Aranea was to be a leader she would be a good one. Or, try at least. She still felt she wasn’t entirely suited for the role. 

Today she found herself sparring outside of Kirkwall with Aveline. Hawke was a talented mage but like all mages, she was very vulnerable to close combat. She could only cast a mind blast so many times before she could easily get overwhelmed by rogues and warriors, even with her staff blade. She wanted to learn how to dispatch enemies from close range. Isabela’s style was the easiest for Hawke but she needed to learn warrior-style defense too. Learning new things, difficult things, like this could help save her life or other lives. 

And Aveline showed no mercy, Aranea grunted as her ass hit the hard-packed earth again. Right, this was good. This was the learning process, you can’t be good at everything immediately…. Hawke hated learning things she wasn’t good at immediately. Magic came naturally, she was an excellent mage. She tended to drop hobbies she was initially bad at. Like this. But Aveline would never let her quit that easy.

“Y’know you could afford to be a bit nicer when kicking my ass,” Hawke suggested, running a hand through her hair as she got to her feet. 

“Why? Enemies won’t be.” was Aveline’s response and Hawke heaved out a great sigh.

“I knew you were gonna say that,” she sighed, putting her hands back up defensively. She wondered how her friend would manage to throw her to the ground this time. 

After a few more rounds she had managed to dodge Aveline’s strikes and grabs, Hawke’s footwork was improving under pressure. She even got a blow in to Aveline’s chest, which was rewarded with a shield almost to the face. Hawke bent too far back, sacrificing her footing in order to avoid. Aveline knocked her down with the next hit and Hawke threw her staff in frustration.

“Alright, I’m done being embarrassed today. Help me up before I smite you.” 

Aveline reached down and gripped her forearm to hoist her to her feet, “There’s nothing embarrassing about learning, Hawke. This is still new to you, and you’re getting the hang of it faster than most of my new recruits do.” 

Aranea grunted as she stood to her feet, she was going to be mega sore tomorrow. 

“This may be the last time I’ll have the time to do this, however…” Aveline expressed as they picked up and headed back for the city, “My training to be captain of the guard is picking up and…. well, not to sound selfish but I would like to be able to put most of my effort into that until I secure the position.” 

Hawke could understand that, and appreciated Aveline’s honesty, “I get you, no worries. I’m really proud of you for wanting to throw 100% of yourself behind this. You deserve that position more than anyone else in Kirkwall..” 

The redhead smiled, “It would not have been possible without your help with Jeven last year. Thank you again, I truly owe you.” 

The mage waved her hand, “Perish the thought! It was my pleasure to publicly disgrace that pig,” she said cheerily before humming in mock thought to tease her friend, “Though having the captain of the guard owing me does have some good points….”

Aveline rolled her eyes, “I already give you plenty of leeway, Hawke, if I gave you any more I’m sure something would blow up.” 

“You say that as if several things haven’t been blown up already this week.”

*****

True to her dread, Hawke was really sore the next day. She winced as she sat on the bench next to Varric at the Hanged Man the next evening for a game of Wicked Grace. 

“That’s the last time I spar with Aveline for a while,” she grumbled as Merrill shot her a sympathetic glance, “I feel like I’m gonna goddamn snap into pieces.” While her inability to spar with Aveline for a while was decided by circumstances, she still needed to complain.

“You look stronger though! I think. It’s hard to tell with humans,” Merrill spoke in her usual quick, unsure candor. 

Hawke managed a smirk, “Thank you for noticing, Merrill. I don’t feel any stronger, though. And the amount of times I was knocked flat on my ass by a friend doesn’t make me very confident for when bad guys try it.”

“Just keep practicing, Hawke, and soon you’ll be beating ass like the best of ‘em,” Varric advised as he dealt the cards.

“Yeah well, when I said I wouldn’t be sparring with Aveline for a while it wasn’t just me whining. She’s got big girl things to do in the guard and doesn’t have much time to knock me around for a while.” Hawke explained as she looked at her hand. She immediately folded, he had dealt her the shittiest hand that even her lengthy bluffs wouldn’t be able to salvage. 

Isabela decided to start the betting for this hands at three silvers, “Why don’t you ask Fenris? I’m sure he’d knock you around plenty if you asked nicely,” her eyes glinted mischievously and Aranea felt embarrassment creep up her neck. 

“Oh shut up, it’s not like that,” Hawke mumbled into her tankard of ale, “I dunno, we can just double up on training, ‘Bela.”

Merrill won the hand and they all threw in their cards, it was Isabela’s turn to shuffle and deal. Merrill was always such a wild card - Hawke could never tell if she was bluffing or if she truly had no idea what she was doing. Sometimes it was both. 

“Oh no, as much fun it is to pin you to the ground, I’d hate to keep you all to myself. Besides, there’s no reason I see for you not to ask the nice warrior boy for help, please feel free to enlighten me.” 

Hawke regretted ever mentioning she found Fenris attractive. Isabela was much more open about sex and attraction, and wasn’t afraid to hint at it even if Hawke had begged her not to tell. God it was like they were schoolgirls sometimes, the way Isabela teased her about her crush. It was even worse when Isabela did it during sex. 

But what were best friends for, right? 

At that moment, Fenris showed up for their game. He didn’t always come to The Hanged Man, and mostly showed up for their biweekly game at the Hawke Estate. But they were all glad to see him. He took a seat at the end of the table, the barkeep brought him out a drink, and Isabela shuffles the deck to deal. 

“Say, Fenris, you aren’t exceedingly busy at the moment are you? Don’t have too many slavers to chase down or hearts to crush, literally and metaphorically speaking?” Isabela started in a conversational tone as she dealt him in. Hawke focused on her hand, which was exceedingly better than the last one, she called Merrill’s starting bet of two silvers. Isabela wouldn’t dare.

He furrowed his brow at her, “No, I am not. Why do you ask?” Hawke glared at Isabela from across the table. She fucking wouldn’t. She wouldn’t…. She totally would. Hawke regretted her entire life at this moment. 

“Well then! I was wondering if you’d do me a favor, I’m supposed to be training with Hawke tomorrow and I forgot I had a prior engagement - one that may keep me kind of busy for a while,” 

Oh Maker she was going to do it. She did, in fact, dare. Hawke kicked for Isabela’s shin under the table but missed and hit Merrill by mistake, who yelped.

“Sorry, Merrill, got a cramp in my leg,” Aranea muttered as her face turned red. 

Isabela’s grin grew, “So I was wondering if you’d be willing to take my place for a bit,” Isabela continued smoothly, as if nothing was going on around her and Hawke wasn’t going to fireball her ass at the next opportune moment, “Aveline recently had to ditch Hawke for her guard captain duties too, and she could use a new partner. What d’you say?”

Fenris frowned, “I don’t see why not, but why are you asking for her?” He raised the bet by another silver. Hawke wanted to die. She called his bet though. 

Isabela waved her hand, “I didn’t want to disappoint her with the news, so I used this opportunity to both ask you for a favor and let her know - sorry love, I hope you can forgive me.” The shiteating grin on her face as she turned back to Hawke was infuriating. Isabela was a lot of things, Aranea had quite a few words to describe her right now, and sorry was absolutely not one of them. 

Her intentions were kind but Aranea was mortified. She didn’t want to make it weirder by saying no when she had an obvious need for a new sparring partner. Especially now that Isabela was going to ditch her for a ‘prior engagement’, which she probably would commit to even if Hawke said no to Fenris. Isabela was the worst. 

“As long as you don’t mind kicking my ass a bit,” Hawke played it off with a jolly comment with a grin, “Though having sparred with Aveline for weeks, I’m pretty used to it.” Finally it came time to show their cards, and Isabela won. Hawke took the opportunity to glare at her, and threw her cards into the pile with a promise of revenge written on her face.

…

Hawke was definitely not used to it, not when it came to Fenris’ brutal methods. She also figured that she was much less relaxed and focused when sparring with a new person - something Fenris was having no trouble with whatsoever. 

Though he always extended a hand to her if she needed it to get back to her feet. This surprised Hawke. She didn’t take it, preferring to stand on her own or even knocking it away in a huff, frustrated with herself.

“Y’know I believe I said kick my ass a bit, Fenris,” Hawke grumbled as she hoisted herself to her feet without his help. When standing, she stretched her arms above her head and groaned as she felt her joints pop. 

He smirked at her comment and rolled his shoulders before giving his rebuttal, “The degenerates we face would show you no such kindness.” Hawke rolled her eyes at him and took a few steps backwards to take a break. She stretched her arms until they popped. She groaned. Aveline had literally said almost the exact thing to her complaining, what was it with warriors and being all right and shit.

“You’re more like Aveline than you’d probably be willing to admit. She said the same thing,” she informed him as she went for the canteen of water they brought. When he appeared behind her she passed it by knocking it into his chest.

“Ah, so you often complain during training sessions, then. I see,” he jabbed with his small smirk returning, and Hawke’s eyes flashed as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

She snorted, he did have a sense of humor - confirmed. Hawke had sensed it before, he often chuckled at her numerous jokes. Sometimes he joked with Varric and Isabela lowkey. The very first time they’d hung out together at his mansion she’d teased him about decorating the wall with the expensive spirits left behind by Danarius and he laughed. Hawke liked his laugh, she wanted to hear it more often. Laughter was a luxury item in a city like Kirkwall, there wasn’t much joy to be found amongst the death and strife. Hawke was committed to making her friends laugh as much as she could manage. 

“Fight me, broody boy,” was her very eloquent response. 

“I believe that’s what we’ve been doing, Hawke. Though you’ve spent most of the time on your ass so it’s been hard to tell.” 

Ooh pretty elf boy wanted to play. Alright, alright, alright. 

A voice in the back of her head warned her that getting pissy would just allow him to win easier - she was nowhere near skilled enough to really be able to challenge him. But her honor was at stake, damn it. Whatever was left of it anyways. 

She barked a laugh, beginning to turn away. Suddenly she whipped around and flew at his abdomen to knock him down.

Fenris was made of stone, he had to be. He barely budged when she went shoulder-first into his rib cage. God damn it he totally was expecting that.

“Did you really think that would work?” He asked, bemused as he easily knocked the mage off balance and she hit the ground on her ass again. Hawke blew her bangs out of her face in frustration and glared up at him. 

Though she soon gave him her signature lopsided grin, “No not really,” was her official answer though she did admit to herself she thought she could catch him off guard. The adrenaline in her gave her another dumb idea. She hoped her eyes didn’t betray it and she quickly swept her legs around like she’d seen some nimble rogues do and knocked his feet out from under him with the force of the blow.

“But to be fair, I didn’t really think that would work either. Sometimes you just gotta try dumb shit and hope for the best,” she said triumphantly. As she stood up, she taunted, “Look who’s on his ass now, sword boy.” She cheekily held out her hand to help him up as he often did for her.

“Sword boy?”

“Yeah not my best but I already alluded to your broodiness and I couldn’t think of anything bet- FUCK.” The profanity was shouted as Fenris grasped her hand and instead of using it to stand, he tugged her back down into the dirt. 

“Oh you bitch,” she shrieked as she flailed her arms at him on her way down. He grabbed her fist mid-swing and held onto it to control her flying limbs. 

Her boot made contact with his shin and she was able to twist her hand out of his grasp. Hawke laughed, exhilarated as she was able to turn the tables and tried to stand to get a better stance. On the ground he could easily overpower her.

Fenris wasn’t having that, and he mimicked her move from earlier, sweeping her feet out from under her and taking the opportunity to pin her arms by her wrists to the ground beneath them.

Hawke’s chest heaved with the exertion and the fun. It was so fun to play wrestle with someone, even if she was bad at it. This reminded her of when she was young and she play fought with Carver in the front yard, how red his face turned when his older sister beat him. He turned even redder when Bethany did, too. She tried not to dwell on thoughts of simpler times with her estranged brother or her dead sister.

Hawke struggled against Fenris’ grip but knew he was much stronger and he had a sure hold on her now. She thought about blowing him off of her with a spell, but she didn’t know how he’d react to the use of magic. Besides that was hardly fair, and she hadn’t seen his lyrium tattoos flash once during their brawl. Hawke didn’t want to cheat to win when she was supposed to be learning how to deal with close combat. And her spells in close quarters could harm herself as well as her assailant - she didn’t want anyone to get hurt. Her pride could take a beating. 

Fenris kept her flailing legs pinned with his own and she couldn’t even try to kick him in the shins again. Hawke huffed, relaxing her limbs and staring up into his face. 

“Alright, fine. You win, are you happy now?” she conceded, her heart still racing. Though if she was going to be honest, the close quarters with him was keeping her heart from slowing. 

He shrugged but kept her pinned as if she would fly at him again, “Maybe a little. You put up a good fight against a much more skilled opponent and showed resourcefulness - well done.” 

Hawke was surprised at the praise, and she glowed a little at it, a small smile tugging at her lips, “Awe thank you teacher, I hope I get a gold star for today for kicking your ass a little bit,” she said as her smile widened to a grin. 

She felt her cheeks flush a bit when he didn’t immediately let her up, they were both breathing hard - though she much more than him. Damn fit ass warrior types. His hair hung down to just barely tickle her forehead. She caught her lip with her teeth and his eyes flicked to follow the movement. They were silent until,

“Uhhh can I get up now? Not that I’m particularly complaining,” she resorted to a little playful flirting despite herself. He blinked and then fluidly stood up, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as he extended a hand to her.

“Apologies,” he muttered and Hawke swore that the tips of his ears turned red, how fucking cute was that. She shrugged as she took his hand this time and he hoisted her to her feet easily. 

“No worries, I’m sure you were expecting me to go for the eyes next,” she joked to alleviate the tension and gave him a blinding smile, “It was fun, let’s do it more!” 

She blinked at her wording and choked a little on air, “I mean spar more. Sparring! Maybe the pinning too I dunno - if the situation calls for it. Uhhhhh, okay I’m just gonna remove my foot from my mouth and walk away now.” 

She turned on her heel and marched away before her face exploded in embarrassment. But the low chuckle she heard from behind her loosened the tension in her chest. Maybe the pinning more too. A girl could hope.

****

They did end up doing it more, the sparring of course. Sometimes they practiced in the Hawke mansion, until Leandra caught them after they’d broken a vase and that was put to a stop quickly. Rough housing was for outside, not in the expensive ass childhood home of her mother. Hawke bought her three new vases to make up for it. 

“We could practice in the foyer of your mansion, Fenris. I mean most of the shit in there is already broken from when we stormed it and killed a bunch of demons,” Hawke suggested as they made their way through the streets of Hightown. It was important for them to practice in differing settings - while the field outside Kirkwall was nice, they didn’t always engage in combat outside. Closer quarters in mines, buildings, warehouses, etc led to very different combat techniques. 

“I’ve cleaned it up,” He retorted, and Hawke laughed and nudged him with her shoulder.

“You absolute liar! It’s been the same wreck as the first time we set foot in there- you can still see my spells’ scorch marks on the wallpaper!” 

Fenris’ lips twitched as Hawke called him out, but still gave a noncommittal shrug at the accusation, “It’s the style in Tevinter.” 

Hawke laughed again, “You always pick the strangest times to joke, y’know?” They lived close to one another now that she’d moved to Hightown. It was nice, and he visited her more often nowadays because of it, and not just to knock her down a few times in the sparring ring. While Varric had made fun of Fenris for having no friends, he was admittedly closer to their little ragtag team than he used to be. While he didn’t fancy keeping company other than them, he was considerably more friendly than when they had met. Fenris enjoyed and was used to solitude, but often came by Hawke’s estate for a visit, often they played with her Mabari, Fish. He also had started talking considerably more when they all went out on Kirkwall “errands”. 

Speaking of sparring though, Hawke had spent some time thinking about how to repay him for his time he spent teaching her sorry ass how to enter defend herself in close combat. Sure she was talented with her staff blade but he taught her how to be a threat without a staff at all, and without the danger of casting elemental spells close to her body where they could easily hard her as her opponent. 

Hawke had found a tome while sniffing around the Alienage one night, titled A Slave’s Life. It was written by Shartan, the slave who had fought alongside Andraste. Or something. Hawke wasn’t exactly a devout Andrastian, though she used her name to swear quite often.

She wanted to give it to Fenris as a gift for his time with her, along with a few promised rounds of drinks at the Hanged Man next time. 

“Fenris,” she said somewhat awkwardly as she entered his home. He turned to her, though continued through the foyer.

“I have something for you. A gift.” She continued, feeling her cheeks burn a little as she pulled it from her shoulder bag filled with potions and bullshit. 

“It’s…. a book.” 

Hawke smirked, “Why, yes it is. Good catch.” He gave her a withering look and she regretted that her first instinct was to be sarcastic. Growing up the oldest of three little shits had its downfalls. 

“Sorry, I’ll try not to be an ass when I’m trying to give a gift,” she said quickly, ducking her head a little before continuing, “It’s by Shartan? The elf who helped Andraste free the slaves, I think. Do you know about him, I have to admit I don’t really.”

He shrugged, “A little. It’s just….” he paused and glanced away, “Slaves are not permitted to read. I’ve never learned.” 

Hawke was like a deer caught by hunters, she hadn’t even thought of that. She felt imaculately stupid, she failed to remember Fenris’ background with real bearing on him. To her, it was just a story. Her friend had been a slave to a Tevinter magister who hunted him still. He lived it, was living it, would feel the ramifications of it for the rest of his life. 

She made a note to do better and tried to keep her self-deprecating thoughts to herself. Instead, she had a better idea. Something that could definitely pay Fenris back for his lessons and help him shed a symptom of bondage. 

“It’s not too late to learn, Fenris,” she began, but paused in uncertainty. 

“Isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder,” he mused in her pause, “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful - I appreciate the thought.” 

Hawke bit her lip, almost chickening out, but surged ahead with the thought she’d had, “Well, how about this? I could teach you to read in exchange for your generous help with my lacking combative skills.” She finally said, and he looked at her with surprise.

“I’m sure you have plenty more to do than teach me to read,” was his answer, though he wasn’t saying he didn’t want it.

Aranea shrugged, “I’m sure you have plenty more to do than teach my sorry ass how to fight. Let’s trade, and make it fair to both of us. I really don’t mind, and I’d be really glad to help.”

Hawke wasn’t a great teacher, but she did tutor Carver and Bethany in reading and arithmetic when they were wee kiddos. He had been willing to help her out, and she wanted to return the favor. He was a cherished friend, after all. And learning that slaves were not allowed to learn to read made Hawke’s blood boil. Even the poorest people could read, at least to some degree. To deny people the ability to read, to learn, in order to keep them naive and compliant… well, Hawke was pleased to be able to offer Fenris help. 

Fenris blinked, seemed to be thinking, before he nodded his head in agreement, “Well, alright. I don’t see why not and I can’t pretend I don’t want to learn. Thank you, Hawke, I appreciate the offer and accept.” 

Aranea chuckled, “Whoa, what’s with the formality? Relax. We’ll make this fun. If you want… we could start today? No time like the present? Get it. Cause I just gave you a present and…. nevermind.” 

She stopped her own needless blathering by starting a lesson instead, when he agreed. They sat at the table and Hawke started with the alphabet. Father always said, you can’t build a house without the foundation first. 

****

“F, what’s a word with an f?” Hawke asked as she dodged his swing. They had decided to sometimes combine sparring lessons with reading lessons. Kept them on their toes, and it could be a lot of fun. 

“Fenris,” was his response and Hawke clicked her tongue at him.

“Too easy, that was your answer last time! Another.” She blocked his swing with her forearms, kicked at his shins before darting away from his grasp. 

He growled at her, actually growled. Hawke couldn’t help but laugh, which only ticked him off worse. Which only made her laugh harder. It was a slippery slope. 

She snickered at him and teased, “What? You growled at me Fenris, for Andraste’s sake! Give me an F.” 

“Fuck you.”

Hawke laughed louder, “Very good, and such colorful language!” She teased, “But if you want to fuck me, you’ll have to be faster than that.” Whoops, she hadn’t meant to say that, that kind of banter she usually left for Isabela, but his eyes flashed with the challenge. He had been distracted by her intertwined alphabet lesson but now he was focused on her completely.

“Now how about an M?” She tried to distract him once more, though he completely ignored her as he stalked her way. Hawke felt a thrill race through her, he was looking at her with such heat and determination she almost wanted to be caught. Almost. She darted away from what would certainly be immediate defeat. Her best bet was to keep distance between them. He grabbed her arm as she tried to ghost away from him, she pried his fingers off before he was able to get a better grip, smacking his hands away.

“Come on, Fenris,” she taunted, and her hubris once again was her downfall. While she was too busy being a tease, he rushed her. 

She was no match for him when he got serious and wasn’t teaching any longer. He flashed blue and dashed forward, almost too fast for her to see, and knocked her legs out from under her. 

Fenris grabbed her wrists and he pinned her, the air having been knocked out of Hawke, she had no way to retaliate in time. She groaned in pain and surprise as her back hit the earth. He was lanky but fucking strong, she had no chance of getting away.

“Well, once again, ruined by my smartass mouth,” she sighed, gasping for breath as all of hers had been knocked out of her chest by the impact. Always enough breath for a comment though. He did not answer, she stared up at him. This was like the first time they’d ever sparred. Why did it always end up here? This was like something Varric would put into one of his books. 

His hair tickled her forehead, Hawke felt her heart stop a little as she met his eyes. So intense, she wanted to kiss him silly. Fuck, fuck, fuck - yes F was the letter of the goddamn day. F for Fenris, F for fuck. Fenris fuck. Fuck Fenris. 

Hawke internally slapped herself. Stop that. 

He fluidly stood suddenly as she got lost in her weird, slightly horny thoughts. 

“I win,” he said simply, reaching his hand out to help her up as he always did. 

Hawke huffed, “Yeah you always win,” she complained, taking his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. He tugged her a little closer than usual, her chest almost hitting his. He didn’t immediately let go of her hand, and she didn’t step away. 

Her heart was beating fast, from the exhilaration of sparring and her own feelings for this impossibly handsome man. She chewed on the inside of her cheek absentmindedly. 

“You might win. Someday.” he responded cheekily, and Hawke stuck out her tongue at him and blew a raspberry. He smiled, not smirked, smiled. She was delighted at the sight. To see him smile was a very rare occasion, and that he smiled at her? Priceless. She wanted him to always smile, and not just because he was handsome. She wanted him to be happy. Hawke wanted all of her friends to be so happy, find perfect moments amongst the chaos of their lives. 

Wherever their lives took them, whatever dangerous bullshit they got swept up in, Hawke would walk into it all with a grin as long as she had her friends with her. She wanted them to enjoy the ride as well - would do anything to make that happen.

“Now gimme an F, boyo.” 

***  
A little bit of Varric POV lol why not he’s fun  
***

Fenris stood and left, bidding them a good night. Isabela has gone off to find another drink and Merrill decided to walk home to the alienage. Hawke saw Varric put some coin in a seedy looking man’s hand. Ah, right. He paid off the thugs in town to stay off of her.

Hawke also made it very clear over the past few years that anyone who hurt her friends, suffered. 

As Varric came back to sit with Aranea once more, he followed her gaze to the elf’s back as he left. He grimaced at the sight. Hawke looked like a lovesick puppy, it was almost nauseating. It was worse when she was drunk l. Usually she hid it in sarcasm like everything else she felt but now it was plain as day. If Varric was writing this story he would have Fenris turn around and see it. Even that emotionally unavailable elf would recognize the look on her face. He’d get a clue, Hawke would jump into his arms, maybe the other way around, and then boom. Romance. 

Well, he wasn’t actually very good at love stories to be fair but it still was infuriating to see tropes played out by his friends.

Varric sighed, finally, rolling his eyes at his best friend. Hawke was an excellent leader but did she have to be so fucking dense sometimes? It was embarrassing. But he didn’t like to see her suffer so, she deserves some good old fashioned lovin’ in her life. 

“Listen, Hawke, and I’m gonna lose coin for this but I literally can’t stand this anymore.” 

Hawke turned back to him, a surprised look on her face. He was losing twenty sovereigns to Isabela and Anders (each!) for breaking the terms of their bet, which included not telling Hawke about her mutual attraction with the prickly elf.

The bet was whether Hawke or Fenris would make the first move. They were so hopeless even Daisy noticed. 

“Kiss the elf. Give us a break from the mutual longing glances when either of you look away. It’s like a bad romance novel. Believe me.” 

He’d never really seen Hawke blush, she was more of a laugher when she was embarrassed. But boy did she flush at the open acknowledgement of her not-so secret.

She sputtered, stopped, angrily took a drink from her tankard, and then her expression softened before it turned distrustful. Wow, Varric had never seen so many conflicting emotions pass her face in a five-second period. Hawke kept everything hidden behind a cocky smirk. To see her this expressive was very interesting - he tried not to study his friends as such but Hawke was almost as evasive as he was. She wasn’t as good at it, but run far and long enough and even the quickest people will give up.

“What do you mean?”

God Hawke was a crappy liar when she was drunk. Varric snorted and she angrily took another gulp of her drink, glaring at him over the rim.. Touchy subject, obviously. 

“Let me try that again since I may have broken you the first time,” Hawke reached across the table and flicked his arm, “Ouch! Okay, okay, fine. Fenris isn’t as subtle as he thinks he is, he just gets a pissy, constipated look to hide his emotions,” he started and Hawke’s brow furrowed. 

Varric continued, “You know how you fight back to back, and synchronize so well? It’s because both of you pay so much attention to one another that it’s almost impossible to keep up with you.” 

Hawke gestured to him with an unsteady swing of her mug, “You’re doing that thing where you say a lot of stuff but don’t actually say what you mean, Varric.” 

He rolled his eyes, “You’re so dense, Maker’s breath. You like Fenris, he feels the same about you. You practically have signs on your foreheads. So once you’re sober maybe you should try not being an evasive fuck.” 

She snorted, “You’re one to talk about bein’ evasive,” she threw back but he didn’t take the bait. This was how she deflected. 

He wasn’t going to let her, “No, no, we’re talking about you right now, we can discuss my inability to tell the truth later. I’m telling it now. Get your head out of your ass and tell the poor sap how you feel. I’m sure it’ll make his day after four years of this bullshit.” 

Hawke blinked at his serious tone, uncharacteristic of him, “That’s. Uh. Well. Thanks, Varric.” 

He shrugged, “Don’t mention it. No, seriously. Don’t. Maybe Fenris will still make the first move and I’ll win the bet.” 

Hawke stared into her mug at the last bit of her mead. Varric briefly regretted telling her this while she was sloshed, but figured she probably wouldn’t go jump into his arms immediately anyway. Aranea was a lot of things, direct was not exactly one of them. 

Maybe it was better to have it as a subconscious propellor. And maybe he could keep his uncharacteristic slip of the tongue secret and still win the bet. Honestly he thought his chances were about 50/50. 

***  
Hawke in fact did not remember much about that night, though she had that weird nagging feeling that she was forgetting something. Whatever, if it was important it would probably try to kill her within the next few days and she’d remember. 

Right now, Hawke sauntered into Fenris’ Estate, looking for some company and maybe a drink of that fabulous wine. Or some sparring practice. 

She’d seen Carver from a distance that day, Doug some Templar bullshit. It made her blood boil. But she had tried to be healthier about dealing with her crappy emotions, she sought company and friends instead of solitude and drink. It was a start. 

“I like the view,” a conversation was already going on, Fenris answered Isabela’s voice as to why he stayed up here in Hightown. 

“So do I,” was her response and Hawke smirked, she did too. She appeared in the doorway as Isabela got up to leave, Fenris’ head snapped up and locked eyes with Hawke. 

Isabela made her way out, knocking her hip to Hawke’s and winking at her best friend before leaving. She flushed a little, but she turned back to Fenris to find him smiling slightly at her presence. 

“Hey there, I had a hankering for some company. Do you mind if I sit?” she said pleasantly, and he extended a hand to the chair Isabela had just vacated. 

Hawke sat with an exhale as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders. Sometimes, it felt like it was. They’d done a lot for the city since coming back from the Deep Roads, and Hawke’s name was more and more well known by the day for her escapades with her friends. It felt like she was just doing the right thing and helping people, but other felt it was so much more. Hawke felt selfish - she did a lot of it to help her forget the pain in her own life, it wasn’t entirely out of the goodness of her heart. She had selfish motives like everyone else.

She didn’t know what to say at first, opting for the comfortable silence until it seemed that Fenris had something on his mind as well. Hawke was glad to listen to him and help if she could - it was a welcome distraction from her own problems. She tended to fix everyone else’s problems and ignore her own. 

“Three years….” He mused and Hawke leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms and legs and got ready to listen. “And still no sign of Danarius, I wonder if he’s finally given up.”

Hawke smirked, “What, you miss all the attention?” she teased.

Fenris smiled vaguely, looking a bit wistful. Hawke’s brow creased a little - there was something more on his mind. 

“Tell me. What do you do when you stop running?” 

She blinked, not expecting that question. She could only speak from her own experience escaping the Blight in Fereldan. She wasn’t sure if it was the best advice but, “I guess…. you take a breath, look around, and try to make the best of where you end up. Start anew and all that.” 

He turned his eyes back to her and admitted, “I don’t know how.” 

Hawke could understand that, she had no idea how to either when she started. But instead of telling him that, and byways of relating his issue to her experience accidentally making it about her, she just listened. She leaned forward as he talked about his first memory being of receiving his markings. Hawke grimaced at the prospect, it was nothing she could even begin to imagine. And to have it wipe away everything he had been before becoming a slave? It was so horrible but Hawke did not want to pity him, and he would not want that either.

“I shouldn’t trouble you with this,” he said suddenly, standing, “My problems are not yours.” 

Her brow furrowed a bit, before she managed smoothing it out with a smile, “I don’t mind, really. You’ve dealt with plenty of my problems much more forthright than just listening.” 

His facial expression relaxed and she went on in her normal overly talkative away, “Besides, I might be able to help with your problems, y'know? Or more likely give you a few more.” 

Fenris’ lips twitched into a smile as he played along, “Only a few?” 

Hawke leaned forward in her seat, putting her elbows on her knees, “Maybe more if I really try hard at it. I’ve got a good peanut gallery of enemies for you to heart crush.” 

“Tempting,” he responded and Hawke noted the deeper tone to his voice. She gave him a flirtatious little smirk. He went on and surprised her with his next words.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke,” he admitted, and she felt her heart speed up. Heat rushed to her face. They had flirted a little before but hearing him acknowledge that he found her attractive was…. wow. But it didn’t surprise her as much as she expected, as if she kind of knew already. 

“Is there no one else who has your… attention?” Hawke’s eyes flicked back up to meet his. She had casual sex with Isabela sometimes but Isabela had been her…. lover? Playmate? Booty call? Main squeeze? Not girlfriend, but they had a fair amount of sex. It was basically platonic, though, and that worked for them. Hawke wasn’t romantically attracted to her, Isabela didn’t do the love thing, they just needed to have fun and get off. It did wonders for stress, and had made them closer friends. They were both physical people, they liked to touch - it helped them feel. 

Fenris, though, made her feel very differently. While she definitely had platonic love for him as well, it was definitely different.

“I’m sorry I didn’t quite catch that first part,” she teased him, almost in a daze. His eyes softened as he met hers, and he chuckled low in his throat. Hawke felt heat rise to her cheeks, running down her neck, at the sound. She flushed so deeply, she hated it. Revealed too much, she was much more suited with the mysterious edge. 

“I don’t need to repeat the obvious, I’m certain.” Was his response and Hawke’s heart sped up again, she may have short circuited a little bit. Usually she was the confident one when flirting but Fenris made her legs feel like jelly. His green eyes met her blue and she bit her lip unconsciously. 

She tried her best to keep up though, she would not be beaten in the flirty Olympics, “Well, I shouldn’t need to say the obvious, then. But I guess I will.”

“No one has my attention like you do, Fenris,” she said boldly, holding his eyes with hers. She saw the tips of his ears turn red at her words. She smiled, her canine catching her lip briefly. Andraste, he was so…. so? So. You know? Ugh. 

He turned away from her, and she could see the red tips of his ears and the dusting of red across his high cheekbones and she felt less embarrassed about her own blush. 

“I’m an escaped slave and an elf, living in a borrowed mansion. None of those things bother you?”

She blinked, taking a moment to comprehend. Hawke honestly hadn’t considered those as detrimental attributes but could understand his insecurity because she had similar ones. 

She snorted, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms, though she felt anxiety zip through her as she considered her own. 

The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them, “I’m a mage, a Fereldan apostate refugee, and absolutely insufferable to boot. That doesn’t bother you?” 

Fenris snickered a bit, “You have me there,” he said, the ghost of a smile not leaving his face until…. it seemed something had occurred to him. It disappeared. Hawke felt the buzz of anxiety beneath her skin, she tugged at her sleeves apprehensively.

She regretted reminding him that she was a mage. While nothing about Fenris bothered her, not being from Tevinter, an elf, a former slave…. she wasn’t sure if being a mage was something he could overlook about her. She could definitely understand why, considering what she had pieced together from the snippets of his past he had shared with them all. He had been the slave of magisters. Saw plenty of abominations, the common use of blood magic. Hawke didn’t practice blood magic, but could understand his fear of it. She didn’t particularly agree, and thus didn’t ask him to help her with mage-related tasks, as he did not approve of her being lenient and letting mages exist outside of the Circles and the deplorable Templars. He did not comment, though she didn’t exactly keep it a secret that she supported free mages. Maybe he could overlook it in a friend, but a partner? 

It was probably a sign that they wouldn’t be a good match but Hawke refused to believe that he would never be able to see that not all mages were evil. Anders wasn’t exactly a help - he got Fenris all riled up on purpose. It was a two way street though, Fenris prodded Anders about irresponsible mages. They were still kind of friends, they had come to tolerate one another more often recently and they had yet to beat the snot out of one another yet as far as Hawke knew. Honestly it might be good for them to get it out, though. 

“You bring up an interesting point,” he finally broke the silence, “I’ll have to… consider it.” 

Hawke felt her stomach drop. Oh. Fair enough, she supposed, she could understand having considerations. She tried not to take it personally. 

She shook it off with a smile, “So, wanna get drunk and practice reading?” 

Fenris seemed grateful for the subject change and he nodded, disappearing to get a bottle of wine for them. Teaching was always more fun a bit tipsy. 

Isabela had remained, hidden in the shadows and eavesdropping. She had to know if she had won the bet, but it honestly was unclear. Hawke was doing her evasive flirty thing but he had responded more seriously. Nothing had happened further between them but did this count? Did she win? Unclear. The lack of kissing was disappointing, the sexual tension was almost tangible for a moment. Isabela had silently been chanting for them to kiss already. But they were absolutely -

“Hopeless,” she whispered, tsking quietly to herself as she backed out of the mansion to fill in the others. 

***  
They were. Hawke didn’t mention it to Fenris, tried not to flirt too much, while he took his time to consider it. Hawke busied herself with town errands, cleaning up other people’s messes. She tracked down Javaris at the behest of the Arishok. Hawke tended to keep her friends close and enemies closer, she didn’t want to be in the Arishok’s bad side while he occupied Kirkwall and tensions were rising. Besides, Fenris had scored her a good first impression. She could stand to hold onto the Arishok’s begrudging respect as he occupied Kirkwall, it might prove useful. 

Hawke and friends did odd jobs around town, helping out people they could and killing bad guys. A usual week for them, the janitors of Kirkwall. They always had time for Wicked Grace, though.

The only week they missed their weekly card game was after Hawke, Fenris, Varric, and Anders had journeyed into the Fade to help out a young mage boy named Feynriel that Hawke had sent to the Dalish years prior to practice magic freely. 

He was unable to awaken from his sleep, plagued by nightmares and temptations from demons. Hawke had marginal experience exploring the Fade, but she couldn’t let this boy suffer. Or become a powerful abomination, as Keeper Marethari explained he would if successfully possessed. That would fall on her shoulders to deal with and she neither wanted that boy to suffer such a fate or have to kill him. 

Entering the Fade was a laborious task, one in which Hawke had to fight both demons and her friends. While she had experience thwarting the temptations of demons as a mage, Fenris and Varric had no such experience and both fell victim to honeyed words. 

It was jarring, even knowing that it was a dream and they would wake up once she knocked them out. 

What was more jarring was having her worst fears come true in the process: Hawke feared most of all having her friends turn on her. Betray her. The people she loved most turning their backs and weapons on her sent fear straight to her core. She knocked them out as quickly as she could and tried not to dwell, focusing her energy on killing the demons that had tempted Feynriel and her friends. 

“I could give you power, Aranea Hawke,” the Pride Demon had tried to shake her as she stood against it with Justice - Anders had been long gone since they entered the Fade, “Purpose. A way out. The ability to make everyone around you happy.” 

Hawke conjured a cage of ice, which skewered the demon from all sides, “I’m figuring it out on my own, but thanks for the shitty offer,” she snapped as it screamed, “Now fuck off.” 

Afterwards, she looked around for Fenris’ unconscious body, but it was nowhere to be found. 

Justice noticed her become frantic, “Cease your fretting. He will awaken in your world with the dwarf,” they boomed in their usual tone. Hawke felt embarrassment and relief crawl up her neck. 

“Thanks, bud,” she mumbled, pushing past them back to the main room of Feynriel’s dreamscape, where the man of the hour expressed his newfound confidence, having been able to thwart the demons’ advances with little help from Aranea - who had avoided frightening him and helped him instead to see the lies laid before him. 

Taking to the door they had entered through, Hawke suddenly found herself awake in the physical world. She sucked in a deep breath as she sat up sharply, causing the Keeper, who had watched over them as they dreamed to shush her gently, hands touched her shoulders. Aranea’s heart wouldn’t quit pounding, but her brain caught up soon. 

Anders stirred next to her, and his eyes were visible when he opened them. No glowy-glowy anymore. Hawke was glad to see him again, instead of Justice. 

Varric was waiting for them, alive and looking troubled.

“The elf split as soon as he woke up. Seemed pretty spooked,” he explained, though his voice held none of his usual cheer. He wasn’t meeting Hawke’s eyes for more than a few seconds without looking away, “I wanted to stay and make sure you were alright. I’ll make sure the others know, too.”

He was giving her an out, noticing how spooked Hawke looked as well. She smoothed her features, but that made him look more worried.

“Thanks, Varric. I just need some rest.”

They parted ways, and no one seemed to feel up to the game of Wicked Grace the next day. Hawke spent the day in bed, moping about feeling weak despite being the only one (besides Justice) to have been able to resist temptation. She wished that she had been able to protect her friends, though part of her did know that it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t help but blame herself for putting them into that situation in the first place. If she had just… encouraged Feynriel to go to the Templars maybe it wouldn’t have happened.

Or maybe it would have, and there would have been less room to help - the Templars would have readily killed the boy stuck in his dreams instead of seeking help for him. While mages held a different set of challenges than most people, challenges that could prove to make them extremely dangerous foes, it did not make them automatically bad people.

And he deserved to be free than to be chained to the Gallows for the rest of his life - however long he was allowed to live. 

Or he could have been made Tranquil, a fate Hawke personally felt was worse than death.

Regardless of her guilt or non-guilt, she wallowed in her room for the day instead of making her way to the Hanged Man. Something told her that Varric and Fenris were feeling similarly, and wouldn’t show up anyways. Oh well. Isabela, Anders, Aveline, and Merrill could play on their own if they wanted. Hawke wanted to lay in bed with her Mabari for a while. 

***

It took a few days for things to get back to business. Hawke knew she couldn’t avoid her friends forever, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong idea and think she was angry with them for what had happened in the Fade.

Probably too late on that front, she realized as she laced her boots. She had spent two days holed up in her house, taking no visitors even when her mother tried to coax her to get some sunshine. No thanks. She wanted the light of the fire, if that. She wanted to lay in the dark and feel guilty. 

It was honestly more like three days she spent in her room, not even getting up to eat. It was evening of the third day by the time she got out of the house,

She headed for the Hanged Man, opting to touch base with her best friend before anyone else. She found Varric where he usually stood, and when he turned at the sound of her approaching footsteps, she saw guilt flash across his face.

“Hey Varric,” she greeted, prepared to apologize, but he beat her to the punch, seeming to sense the tone of her visit immediately. 

“Hawke, listen. I’m so sorry for what happened… y’know, back there.”

“It’s fine, Varric, I understand. I’m just sorry for even dragging you into the Fade - it was dangerous as fuck.”

Varric gave her a bemused look, “Isn’t everything we do dangerous as fuck?” Hawke shrugged and nodded in response, he had a point. 

He continued, “The whole time we were in the Fade, nothing felt real. Which, I mean, makes sense, considering. I just… I want you to know that I would never choose a demon over you while I’m conscious and sober.”

Hawke laughed, feeling her previous tension fade from her shoulders, “Oh, how sweet, you’re on my side less than half the time then? Noted.” 

Varric’s face broke into what seemed to be a relieved smirk, “Hey, I’d say more than half. At least… two-thirds.”

“That’s better odds than me winning Wicked Grace so, I mean… I’ll take it.” Hawke smiled at him, and it felt like a weight lifted from both their backs. Hawke was glad to be able to be with her best friend, that they’d both harbored guilt that could be resolved just by a little playful banter. Varric truly was her best friend - she would do anything for him. 

“Thanks for listening to me, Hawke. I’ll stop babbling.” 

Hawke chuckled, “We all know I won’t, I babble enough for all of us combined and then some. Buys time though.” She winked at him and turned to go, still having another stop tonight, “Thanks, Varric. You a good people.”

“Feeling’s mutual, my friend.”

Walking out of the Hanged Man, her feet took her through Kirkwall, passing her own estate to Fenris’ mansion without even thinking about it.

She hesitated at his doorstep, though she usually just walked right in. What if he didn’t want to see her? Hawke chewed on her lip before steeling her nerves and pushing the door open and waltzing through with as much swagger as she could muster. Acting normal and being normal were too very different things, and she felt foolish as soon as Fenris laid eyes on her. 

“Hawke, hello,” he greeted, seeming surprised to see her, “I… wasn’t expecting you.”

Hawke cocked her head and shrugged, “I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” she hadn’t felt this awkward around him in a long time. They’d become friends quickly, despite differing opinions and temperaments. She had never felt awkward around him really, except when she was stumbling over her feelings. 

“No, no. Not at all. I’m… pleased to see you,” he admitted, and Hawke felt herself relax minutely. He met her eyes, and she saw her own insecurity reflected there. He looked like he shared the guilt festering in her heart following their trip to the Fade.

“I’m happy to see you too. I’m sorry for disappearing for a bit. The Fade was… a lot,” she muttered, and he nodded readily in agreement.

“Indeed it was. I’ve been thinking about what happened…” he paused and rubbed the back of his neck, staring into the fire instead of her eyes, “To think a demon could prey so easily on my fears. It… disturbs me.”

Hawke was about to answer when he continued, “I failed you. I won’t let that happen again.” She blinked as she processed what he had said. He failed her? She felt the opposite was true.

“I thought I had failed you…” she murmured without thinking, and immediately wanted to stuff the words back in her mouth and replace them with something witty and charming and evasive. It was becoming harder to do with him, though. She wanted to be honest, despite her insecurity and inexperience in doing so with most people. 

They only looked at each other for a moment, both seeming to have a moment of clarity. Neither blamed the other for what had happened.

“I’m sorry I took you there, I wish I had been able to protect you and Varric,” she broke the silence and he shook his head.

“It was enough that you were able to protect yourself - it didn’t manage to influence you and for that I am grateful. I was concerned. I’m sorry I left without waiting for you to wake up. I… “ He stopped talking, and Hawke didn’t press him.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she said with a nod, “And besides, I allow one free demon possession to everyone. Free of charge.” She lightened the mood with a bit of humor, and he seemed grateful for it, cracking a small smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Though I don’t plan on getting that involved with demons again for a while.”

Hawke snorted, sinking into her usual chair by the fire, “In this city? Likely you’ll see an abomination outside your front door in an hour, honestly.”

Fenris chuckled, leaning his arm against the mantle of the fireplace, “In terms of the boy, we’ll see what he becomes. If he regrets the mercy you provided, despite the circumstances.” 

She looked up at him, “Do you disapprove of my decision with Feynriel?” she asked. She rarely brought up issues of mages to Fenris, knowing his personal feelings rather well. To her surprise, he shrugged.

“You make the decisions none of the rest of us could stomach shouldering,” was his answer, “It doesn’t feel right to me to lecture you. I cannot say I’d have made the same choice, but that doesn’t mean yours was wrong. I sincerely do hope that he finds happiness in his life, despite the danger that he poses. You helped him see through the demons’ lies, I daresay that he may be well equipped to thwarting them on his own thanks to you.”

Wow that was… unexpectedly very nice. Hawke had been expecting him to be angry with her for letting Feynriel go. She smiled at Fenris, and he returned it.

“Thank you, Fenris. There’s so few people I can talk to about this shit. I’m glad you understand.”

He nodded, “You are a good mage, Hawke. And foremost, a good person. I trust you.”

Hawke felt her heart skip a beat, but she returned the sentiment despite it, “I trust you, too. Thank you for going with me despite your reservations.”

“You are welcome. But maybe let’s not do that again anytime soon.”

She smiled, “Deal.”

***  
“Have time for a reading lesson?” Hawke asked pleasantly as she showed up to Fenris’ mansion one afternoon. She just let herself in anymore, not even bothering to knock. And she did notice that his mansion seemed more cleaned up than the last time she’d been there.

“Also, did you… clean up?”

Fenris rolled his eyes, “Yes and no - Varric and Merrill showed up and insisted that I had to live like a real person and not with blood splatters everywhere. It was a group effort.”

“Oh how horrible, they helped you clean up. Call the guard! Aveline, help!” Hawke teased, and he glared at her a little but it melted away as she plopped down in a chair next to him with a book from her house.

Hawke scooted her chair closer to his and cracked the book open, “This is one of my favorite books from my childhood, I thought we could start on it today.” 

Fenris scooted his chair closer to her as well and leaned over to study the words on the page uncertainly. They’d been working for a few months on his literacy, both his reading and writing had made great strides and Hawke was extremely proud of her friend. 

“Take your time,” she reminded him kindly, smiling at him when he glanced over to her. 

After a few more moments, he started to tackle the words on the page. He read faster than he used to, and only stopped a few times to sound something out or ask her the meaning of a word he didn’t quite recognize. After the first chapter, they decided to stop for a break and do some sparring. 

Fenris noted her successful improvement as well, she was able to avoid his advances and throw his grip off of her several times in succession. He gave her a genuine smile after she nearly punched him in the face, as ironic as that sounded.

“You’re doing well,” he complimented and Hawke threw him a cocky smile before he was able to catch her arms when she was distracted. She swore colorfully and he smiled wider. 

“Easily distracted as ever, though,” he commented and she huffed before kicking him swiftly in the shin. He didn’t let go but it compromised his footing, and she took the chance to twist around and loosen his hold on her before jumping away.

She turned back to face him as he advanced on her again, “Hard not to be when your opponent is so handsome,” she flirted a bit, loving the surprised look on his face at her boldness. He had called her beautiful once, it was only fair for her to return the favor. She winked at him and his smirk adorned his lips. Ooh. 

A heated look and a few long strides and he caught up with her, and she blocked his blows in succession and a low grade mind blast to get him off her.

“No magic,” he growled, his eyes flashing angrily, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

“It was just a little bit!” she protested, though she didn’t really have the time to think because of his relentlessness. He came at her with new fury.

“You cannot depend so heavily on your magic to get you out of every bad situation,” he grunted as he knocked her feet out from under her. She rolled away before he was able to pin her. Aranea leapt to her feet and knock away his hands again. She struck at him, landing blows before having to dodge his again. 

“What if you are out of mana? Out of potions? Out of options?” he challenged, coming at her faster still. His tattoos glowed blue for a split second and he had her pinned against the wall behind her in a second, “Against an opponent stronger and faster? Imperious to magic?” 

She was breathing hard now but she felt no fear - while he was riled up and pissed at her for using her magic, it wasn’t… He wasn’t mad that she used magic. It seemed more that he was truly concerned for her - this was not just helping her to fight better, it was teaching her to survive. As a mage, she was an easy target if she ran out of mana or lyrium potions, it was true. Without her teammates, or if she was caught alone or isolated, she could easily be killed.

Well, not easily. She was pretty wily. 

This was a position they’d been in many times - her pinned, breathing hard, the eye contact intense, but it never failed to make her heart gallop and a flush spread down to her chest - the classic Hawke blush, splotchy and irregular and embarrassing. 

“I know,” she breathed, “I know. But that’s why I know you always have my back, Fenris.” Her voice was genuine, no joking to be found. He stared into her eyes and she detected pain and worry in a flash before he hid it. 

“I cannot always be there, Hawke. What if…” he trailed off and Hawke felt the urge to touch him. She was pinned by the shoulders, her hands came up and touched his arms. He didn’t flinch, he almost leaned into it.

“Fenris, you’ve taught me so well… I truly only used it today to win against you - no halfwit thug could possibly match you.” 

Fenris’ face relaxed from its pinched expression a bit, and she continued, “I could… I don’t know… fight the goddamn Arishok and feel prepared because of how good of a teacher you’ve been. Really. Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” he said after a few more moments of silence, and a ghost of a smile graced his features. Hawke smiled back.

“Thank you for caring, Fenris.” she said quietly, her eyes flicking to his lips momentarily. She wanted so bad to kiss him right now. There was electricity between them. His eyes actually flicked to her lips as well. 

But… Hawke couldn’t. She wanted to so badly but she couldn’t. They still hadn’t talked about his considerations after she’d confessed, in not so many words, that she had feelings for him and only him. She did not want to pressure him into doing or feeling anything just because she had feelings for him. 

Instead, she deflected! Instead of leaning in to him, she used the distraction to duck out underneath his arm and darting away.

“Ha! Now who’s distracted?” she taunted with a grin, though she felt her heartstrings tug as she put distance between them again. Inwardly, she sighed.

***

A week or so later, Hawke found herself back in Fenris’ mansion. She found him sitting at the table, a bottle of his famed Tevinter wine that Danarius left behind lifted to his lips. Hawke smirked at him as his eyes flitted over to meet hers. 

“Last bottle of the Agreggio. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,” he announced, his voice more jolly than she had heard it outside of winning during Wicked Grace. He held the bottle up for her, and she took it for a long swig. The wine was truly divine, and she loathed to finish off his small collection. 

She swallowed, “What’s the occasion, then?” she asked as she handed it back. The answer he provided was not anything she had expected.

“The anniversary of my escape. Astia valla femundis,” he provided, and she blinked at his answer, “Care to hear the story?” He smirked at her as he said it, which made her fidget a little before returning it with one of her own.

The story sounded absolutely riveting, honestly. He rarely spoke about his past, only alluding to the horrible life he had led as the slave to Danarius. This was something she had to hear, and listening to his voice was an added bonus. She settled into the chair across from him, he passed her the bottle again and she took another deep drink.

“Please, do tell. I do love to listen to you talk.” she responded with a flirty edge to her voice. It was absolutely true, she loved to hear him talk. And she was extremely interested in his stories if he was willing to tell.

Fenris leaned back in his chair, green eyes glinting as his smirk widened at her response, “There are few pleasures greater than speaking with a beautiful woman.”

A thrill went down Hawke’s spine hearing him call her beautiful. It was not the first time, he had acknowledged that she was beautiful before, but accompanied with the smoldering look that flashed in his eyes made her want to melt. 

She held herself together, “The sentiment is mutual - there are few things better than speaking with the handsomest man in Kirkwall,” Not her best flirting but her brain had short circuited for a second there. He didn’t seem to mind, the look on his face didn’t waver despite her inability to speak like a normal person. 

“Let me oblige, then. Let’s see…” He set the scene for her, Seheron, and spun the tale of how he’d been left there by his former master and had joined up with a troupe called the Fog Warriors in his time away from Danarius. Hawke’s facial expression slowly became serious as he told his tale, recounting how the Fog Warriors had refused to let Danarius take him when the man had returned for Fenris after having to leave him in Seheron. Danarius ordered Fenris to kill them.

“So I did,” he said somberly, “I… killed them all.” The pain reflected on his face and Hawke wanted to reach out to him. 

It made her heart ache. She had thought his story would be triumphant, as it was the anniversary of his escape from slavery. She supposed she had assumed too much. He stared at the last bottle of Aggregio as if it might reveal some answers to give him. 

“Why did you listen?” she murmured, wanting to understand the reality of his experiences, the reality of being a slave. Hawke had no way to understand otherwise. He explained that it felt inevitable, that he had felt that he had been living in a fantasy world and it had come to an end with his master’s return.

“I felt… I couldn’t… I ran,” he confided in the end, trying to explain how he felt after looking down and seeing what he had done. The reality of his escape was that he had killed people who had saved him and he couldn’t bear it any longer. 

“How well did you know these Fog Warriors?’ she asked sympathetically. She could understand the want, the need, to get away after that horrible experience. 

“I knew them only a few months. In that time, I felt as if I truly lived. They were bold, strong. Free with their affections…” he flicked his eyes to hers. She felt heat rise to her cheeks as she met his eyes and a small smile graced her lips.

“I was in awe of them, and owed them everything. And i turned on them, even so.” 

When she asked why it had taken so long to run from his bonds, that it took killing close companions to push him out of his situation. She felt heat creep up her neck at the sound of the question. It sounded accusatory, and over-simplified the issue of slavery.

He did not seem upset, but she reminded herself that she needed to be more thoughtful as a person who had not experienced bondage. Fenris explained to her that as a slave, he did not think and plan of escaping daily. They only thought of their master’s needs, and what the next hour would bring. Hawke couldn’t quite comprehend it having not been a slave herself, but she was going to be more mindful of her view of slavery.

“It did not occur to me that I could be anything else, until I had a taste of it,” he continued, and Hawke thought of stories she had heard of slave rebellions - there had been many in Kirkwall’s history. She asked him about this for clarification. She wanted to understand. 

Fenris’ eyes cast to the side as he answered, “The ritual that gave me my markings also stripped me of my memory. Whatever I was before may as well have never been. Perhaps if I knew, I would have thought differently.”

Hawke’s blood went ice cold. He didn’t remember who he was. 

She didn’t want to press him, but she asked a few questions. Why he ran South instead of joining other Fog Warriors. He explained that he barely even knew what it meant to get away from Danarius - and that he was chased the entire way even as he boarded a ship and moved south. And he had felt unworthy after what he had done. 

He stopped speaking, and Hawke sat and digested all he had told her. 

“Thank you. For telling me. It can’t be easy to talk about.” she said finally, and he took a long drink of his wine before responding.

“I’ve never spoken about what happened. To anyone. I’ve never wanted to.” he admitted, and Hawke blinked as he passed her the bottle. She took a long drink as well before passing it back. Hawke felt absolutely honored to have been told this by him - she knew how difficult it was to speak of the past. Perhaps she would tell a story of her own one day. He deserved to know more about her - she knew he would understand. However, she was aware of her mistakes in trying to relate to someone else’s pain, that telling a story of her own right now might make him feel that she was trying to take the spotlight. This was his day. 

“I’m… honored. Truly. Thank you for trusting me.”

He smiled, “Perhaps this is what it means to have a friend.” Hawke returned his smile and nodded.

“I am glad to be your friend, Fenris. You’re an incredible person.” The wine loosened her lips, and she wanted to make some kind of flirty comment but didn’t feel the mood was right for that. But the way he was looking at her now, she tucked her hair behind her ear to busy her hands. 

He continued, “I’ve… never allowed anybody too close. When my markings were created, the pain was extraordinary and the memory lingers.” Hawke’s heart ached for him. He had endured such pain, and she was sure the lyrium probably still hurt when he used it in battle. It might even hurt to be touched. 

“But you…” his voice deepened and he looked her in the eye. Hawke’s heart fluttered at the expression on his face. It was intense. Passionate. She bit her lip and his eyes followed it. 

“Me?”

He nodded, “You are unlike any person I’ve ever met. With you, it might be different.”

Hawke stopped breathing for a moment. Her soul exited her body for a brief second. She must be drunk to be hearing such things, but the look on his face remained and proved her otherwise. She hadn’t wanted to venture into this subject right now, feeling that it was inappropriate for her to flirt when he was telling such a personal story, but he had initiated it now. After having felt the need to keep distance between them before, since he had breached the topic on his own terms, she felt comfortable asking a question. 

“Does this mean you’ve… considered? Me, I mean. Us.” God, Hawke was so eloquent when facing certain death but a certain beautiful broody elven man was enough to make her forget how to speak. 

“I have,” he confirmed, “And every day I came to the same conclusion: I want to be near you. I’ve never felt even remotely like that about… anyone.”

“Never?” Hawke’s brow furrowed, she felt her heart ache again to learn that he hadn’t felt affection or love before - perhaps not even platonically. The Fog Warriors he’d met in Seheron seemed to have been the closest thing possible and well, he had been ordered to kill them all. 

“If there was someone before, I have no memory of it. And after I escape… I never stayed anywhere for long. Who would I trust? I didn’t think I needed anyone, or… wanted anyone. Until now.” 

He leveled her with that gaze and smirk that made her skin flash hot, and she held his eyes with a smirk of her own. Sure, her heart was about to beat out of her chest, but she didn’t mind. She felt more certain than she had in a long time.

He followed her movement as she tucked her hair behind her ear again, another nervous habit he probably had picked up on. The Great Aranea Hawke, laughs in the face of danger but becomes shy and coy when confronted with her feelings. 

“I…” she started, but the words caught in her throat, “I… I feel the same about you.” She finally forced them out and he leaned back with a glimmer of relief in his eyes. They stayed like that for a moment, neither one knowing exactly what to do next. This was as good as a confession on both sides. 

“And… we could find out?” she continued in a moment, having thought about what he had said. Maybe it could be different with him, too. Aranea too often ran away as soon as she realized her feelings were more than skin deep. He had never allowed anyone that close to begin with. She didn’t care that it meant that he’d never had sex before - that barely even occured to her except in the background of her giddy thoughts at the heat in his eyes. Usually, skill in that department was all that mattered to her in a romantico-sexual relationship. But right now, it was the furthest thing from her mind. Who the fuck cared, she certainly didn’t.

Despite the obvious sexual tension in the room, he responded, “On another evening, perhaps.” She cocked her head but would never press him. This all was brand new to him, as familiar as it was to her. She wanted him to be comfortable with every step forward, first and foremost. Besides, today was a somber yet celebratory day for Fenris. 

He raised the bottle of Aggregio, “One last toast then. To the fallen!” he declared triumphantly, taking a long drink before passing the bottle back to her yet again. She smiled, raising it back to him.

“To the fallen,” she repeated, before draining the rest of the wine.

*** 

Despite their mutual confession, Hawke and Fenris’ relationship did not change in the coming days - though she did notice he stood closer. Whenever his arm brushed against hers and they walked, she felt her skin buzz in response. 

He seemed to react similarly, though he did not pull away or move away when they were close. Fenris’ words from that night were true: he wanted to be near her. She felt the same. Isabela more than once shot her friend a knowing look, and Merrill giggled behind their backs whenever she caught them. 

Today, they were heading out for Sundermount, Fenris, Varric, and Merrill following closely behind, they were suddenly ambushed by a large group of humans. Fenris tensed at her side. 

Ridiculous. Couldn’t they walk anywhere without being attacked? 

“You’re in the possession of stolen property!” A man yelled from above them. Hawke’s brow furrowed, she hadn’t stolen anything in a while, hadn’t she? When the man continued, “Back away from the slave now and you’ll be spared!” she realized what he meant. Wow. Funny how some people literally don’t fathom seeing others as objects. It made her skin crawl, and she realized why Fenris had seemed perturbed by their appearance.

Slavers were not on the top of her list of favorite people, they were probably at the bottom with Templars. Probably even below Templars, though their treatment of mages was not unlike slavery it was not quite as cruel. At least Templars believed they were doing something good. What good could be in a person who bought and sold people? She pulled her staff from her back and twirled it in her hand aggressively. 

“Fenris is not property!” she yelled back, having no witty retort for a slaver. It was a waste of breath on dead men walking. 

“I won’t repeat myself!” The slaver said as he obviously was going to repeat himself, Back away from the slave now!” Persistent. Hawke didn’t like it. She moved closer to her friend, her knuckles were white as they gripped her staff with the force of her anger. 

Fenris unsheathed his sword, “I’m not your slave!” No, he wasn’t. And as long as Hawke was breathing, he would never be a slave again. Ever. 

She clicked her fingers and a torrent of fire rained down on the yet to attack slavers, feeling no pity to hear them scream. Varric whistled lowly behind his best friend, eyeing Hawke’s deadly serious expression. She rarely reacted like this, regardless of the magnitude of the threat. She quite literally laughed at most threats, but now her voice held no mirth. No sarcasm to be found. Her spells were deadly accurate, and she wasted no time with fancy styling. She wanted them dead as quickly as possible. 

They dispatched the group of slavers quickly, and Fenris found one still living to question. Hawke leaned on her staff, unperturbed at her companion’s rough treatment of the slaver. He got the information he wanted, quickly. Even as the man begged, Fenris’ eyes held no pity, and neither did Hawke’s.

“You chose the wrong master,” Fenris spat before breaking the last remaining man’s next and then he turned to Hawke.

“Hadriana,” a name he had never mentioned before. Hawke guessed that it had to do with Danarius. 

“I was a fool to think I was free. They’ll never let me be!” 

Hawke slung her staff over her back, “Hadriana…” she mused, “Do they have something to do with Danarius?” She voiced her earlier guess. He nodded.

“His apprentice. A sniveling social climber. She’d sell her own children if she knew Danarius would be pleased.” Ah. Well, Hawke didn’t like the sound of that. And if she worked for Danarius, she was not good news for Fenris. 

Hawke has already made up her mind, “Varric, Merrill, head back. We’re going after Hadriana.” This was going to be uncomfortably personal, she could sense it. She couldn’t say that Fenris didn’t get angry often, because it was probably the emotion she saw him express most often (though not undeservedly). But the flash of fear behind his eyes frightened her. This needed to be dealt with. Immediately. Hawke would not stand for any of her friends’ safety to be compromised, and she didn’t want this woman to get away. 

“Be careful, Hawke,” Varric warned as he slung Bianca over his back. Hawke exhaled slowly, he was warning her about her temper. Mages may be more powerful alongside powerful emotions but it did not help her control. She could hurt herself or Fenris if she did not maintain control of her spells. 

“We will.” she promised, and Varric beckoned to Merrill to follow him closely as they left. Hawke trusted them to get home safely. 

Hawke and Fenris turned the other way, and went off to the slaver caves he’d gotten the tip about from the man he’d dragged the information from. They didn’t speak on the way, didn’t need to. They were both angry, and on a mission.

Finding the location, they sliced through the drones of slavers like butter. Hawke and Fenris made an excellent team, her ice and fire prowess matched well with his aggressive form. He always would watch out for her being overrun by melee attackers, though nowadays she could handle her fair share. 

She felt no pity for the humans she cut down here. None. It frightened her sometimes, but knowing what kind of people these were…. they deserved to die. Even if it wasn’t her call to judge them, they would just as readily take them as slaves back to Tevinter. She would never let that happen. She would resort to anything to keep that from happening. 

Coming across a young elven girl amongst the chaos, she offered the pitiful thing a place of employment. Hawke had too much gold and her mom needed to have someone to help around the house. She would be paid well, and protected under the Hawke name. 

“Didn’t know you were in the market for a slave,” Fenris spat as the girl hurried off to Kirkwall. Hawke blinked, surprised and felt a pang of hurt in her chest. How could he think that of her? 

“I… gave her a job, Fenris….” 

He blinked, and seemed to immediately regret his words, “Oh. Well. That’s good. My apologies.” 

Hawke shrugged, “It’s alright. I understand.” And she did, but she couldn’t help but let two more words slip out. 

“Trust me.” 

He stared at her for a moment before, “I do. My apologies, truly. I know you would never.” Fenris was uncomfortable, he rolled his shoulder, rubbed the back of his neck, and carried on. Hawke looked after him, worried. This was obviously affecting him worse than he’d been anticipating. She was glad she had elected to go alone with him, this was not a situation she readily wanted to invite others to. He did not comment but she hoped she had made the right decision. 

They continued on, cutting down slavers as they made their way through the formerly abandoned tunnels. And when they reached the end, they found her.

A normal woman she looked, but Fenris bristled the moment he laid eyes on her. Hawke could sense great magical power emanating from her. She scoffed, feeling her own running through her veins. Hadriana may be good, but Hawke was better. She would be better, no matter what. This woman would not leave these tunnels. 

Harianna was a summoner, calling upon demons and lackeys alike to try to overwhelm the two while she hid behind a barrier. How fucking boring - this woman, a prospective Tevinter magister, one of the most legendary classes of mages - resorting to such cowardly practice. What a fucking joke. Hawke sliced through it with ice, and while Hadriana quickly summoned more and more beings, and put up various forms of barriers, Hawke gave her no rest. 

Again and again she threw fire and ice against the barriers while Fenris took down the drones of lackeys and demons she summoned. Each barrier the frantic woman put up was weaker than the last, Hawke’s fury was overwhelming her. 

And when she fell, when the floor surrounding them was littered with blood and bodies, Hawke turned her back on the woman as Fenris turned their way. 

“This is your call,” she said to him, and he approached his former tormenter with his sword drawn as she halfheartedly reached for her staff. 

“Stop! You do not want me dead.” 

Hawke barked a laugh at that. What a thing to say at a time like this. They had cut through dozens if not hundreds of her lackeys to get this chance. 

She begged for her life, and Hawke wanted to slice her throat to get her to shut the fuck up - though this particular streak of bloodlust was making Aranea uncomfortable with herself. She rarely felt rage this deep. The last time she felt this way was… well, it was after she watched her sister die. Even then, however, she kept a brave face for her family, continued to make light. She persisted for their sake.

She knew that Fenris would not judge her for the anger bubbling in her chest. He matched it. But a part of her was frightened of herself.

But as she listened to Hadrianna bargain for her life, she spit on the ground her way in disgust. Bullies always cried when they got pushed back. How disgusting. 

Hadriana offered information on a supposed sister for her life, asking for Fenris’ word that he would not kill her if she talked. Hawke hoped he would kill her anyway. She supplied that Fenris’ sister was a servant, not a slave, who served another magister.

He killed Hadrianna anyway, crushed her heart with the use of his markings that had made him so valuable to be chased by her and Danarius in the first place. It was ironic, and satisfying. 

She was glad to see her lay dead, but her skin itched. She didn’t normally feel bloodlust - the people she killed tried to kill her and she just was better than them. That was that. This was so much more personal. Hawke had wanted to see Hadriana die. Craved it with Fenris, for Fenris. After he had shared the story of his escape, a story he said that he had never shared with anyone else in his life, she couldn’t control it.

To hear of the true torment and cruelty he had suffered made Hawke harden her heart against the people involved even more than she had. To know he had been ordered to kill friends at the behest of his master. The cruelty he suffered made Hawke want to burn everyone involved to a crisp. 

After she lay dead and cold, Fenris turned and brushed past Hawke, “We are done here.” he declared, not even looking her in the face as he passed. Hawke turned, her anger was cooling with the satisfaction of seeing the woman dead. 

“Fenris…” she called, taking a few steps after him, worried, “Do you… want to talk about it?”

He turned on her, stepping close, “No, I don’t want to talk about it!” he snapped, and Hawke flinched at his tone, though she tried not to take it personally. This had been very personally taxing for him, and she had no idea how it could possibly feel. 

He continued, “This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadrianna here to tell me about this… sister. Even if he didn’t, trying to find her would still be suicide. Danarius has to know about her and has to know that Hadrianna knows.”

That was a fair point, but Hawke was confident in her friends’ abilities. Fenris alone, maybe he would either be killed or taken back to captivity by Danarius. Fenris and everyone else… well, they did do the most heavy lifting around to clean up Kirkwall. Hawke was certain they could kill the bastard and save this sister if he chose to let them help.

“Fenris…” She tried again to assure and soothe him, but he was too absorbed in his own fear and anger to hear her yet. He surged on.

“But all that matters is I finally got to crush this bitch’s heart. May she rot, and all the other mages with her.” 

Okay. Ouch. Hawke tugged on her sleeves, feeling hurt creep up her spine at his words. She knew he was speaking from anger and fear and everything else that had been building over the years constantly running from these horrible fucking people, but it still wsa a stab in the heart. He had turned too quickly to see the hurt cross her face, taking steps away from her. His fists clenched and unclenched, he had no more outlet for his pain. 

She took a shaky breath, tried to push her own feelings away. She needed to be there for him right now, no one else could or would be. 

Hawke took a step forward, her hand brushed his shoulder, “Maybe we should leave...” she started, only to have him shake off her touch roughly. Hawke’s face fell. 

“Don’t comfort me.” he spat, and Hawke’s hand fell to her side. Her nails dug into her palm to ground herself. He stepped away from her reach and turned to look at her, and she smoothed her expression to hide the guilt and hurt she was feeling.

“You saw what was done here,” Fenris growled, and Hawke glanced away. Yes, she had. The place reeked of blood magic, she had seen the victims herself. They had sacrificed slaves to feed their blood into their power. It was abhorrent and made her feel queasy, she could feel the dark magic swirling in this place. It was most likely amplifying their negative feelings as it lingered. 

“There’s always going to be some reason, some excuse, why mages need to do this.” Hawke frowned, still not able to look him in the face. She was sad. Magic was such… a beautiful thing to her. A wonderful light in her life. Regardless of the stigma it held, magic to Aranea was her sister’s delighted laugh when she did a paltry trick for her. Magic was Carver’s snicker when Aranea played a prank on their parents or a friend, turning their hair sky blue for an hour or two. Magic was the proud look on her father’s face when she got a spell right on the first try. Or even on the second. The eighth. It didn’t matter, Malcolm had always been glowingly proud of his daughter. 

Magic was protection, but she knew it was also a double edged sword - capable to both create and destroy. Unfortunately, Fenris had only seen the horrible pieces of magic - the abuse of the gift. While Hawke did not always love her abilities, resenting them and the hate that followed her because of her abilities, she did not hate all magic. It could be beautiful. It could be good.

He couldn’t possibly know this with his past, and she had to respect that. But she wanted to show him the good, she wanted him to know that it could be beautiful. 

“Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her,” Fenris continued, and Hawke was about to suggest that maybe she was okay - maybe she had not suffered as he had. She knew it was hard to think positively, especially now, but she wanted to believe that it could be alright. 

“What does magic touch that it does not spoil?” 

Hawke felt her heart break a little as he threw those words at her. She reminded herself once again that it came from a place of pain and anger, but it did not lessen the blow. She felt the magic humming beneath her skin even now. She felt the urge to rip it out, she suddenly felt dirty. Spoiled. 

Is that what he truly thought of her? Despite his words only a few nights before, when he explained his escape to her and confessed how he felt… was he simply drunk and forgetting that she was indeed a mage?

Hawke rarely emoted freely, but the hurt crossed her face again and this time, he saw it. They were silent. Hawke had nothing to say - he did not want her comfort and she was afraid of pushing him further away by trying. She was also afraid of hurling his words back in his face due to her own hurt. She did not want to cut him as he did her. 

She saw regret flash in his eyes as his words hung in the air. 

“I…. need to go.” he said finally, and turned to stalk out of the caverns. She did not follow. Instead, she turned and glanced at Hadrianna’s body and felt her magic still swirling in the dark. She felt a pang of pity for her, finally, though it was short lived.  
Hawke shook herself, slinging her staff over her back, and made her way out. Fenris had not waited for her, and she made her way home alone with the thoughts swirling in her head. 

***

A few nights later, Hawke was spending the night in, alone. Her mother was visiting a friend and would probably be staying the night. By this time, Sandal and his father were already asleep. 

The building was silent, Hawke got up from her desk to pace. She had been worried about Fenris since the incident with Hadrianna. Aranea chewed at her lip, worrying it as she walked around the room restlessly.

She was happy for him that he had gotten revenge, the woman had obviously caused him pain. Hawke couldn’t even imagine what it could be like to be a slave, to have had lyrium branded into his skin, to have forgotten everything. To be at the mercy of other people. 

Hawke darkly, selfishly thought that maybe it was better not to remember. But just because she had things she wished to forget doesn’t mean that losing your whole life in the process was better. She swore at herself for having such a thought, she had a lot to be thankful for. Why couldn’t she appreciate it more? 

He had pulled away from her, yelled at her, but that didn’t really bother her. Hawke could take it, despite the hurt that she harbored in her chest, she knew what it was to need to outlet your pain with hurtful words and actions. But this was a pain that Hawke couldn’t even begin to understand. But she did want to try. She cared for him so much, and hid the depth of her feelings with evasion and humor. As always.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Hawke…. You are unlike any person I’ve ever met, with you it might be different….I never thought I’d needed anyone, or wanted anyone, until now.” 

His words to her rung around her heart like the echo of one of those huge Chantry bells. She touched her lips, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him. But he had considerations, he shied away from her plenty of times. She respected him and that a romantic relationship might be too much for him right now. He was going through a lot, she was helping him track down his old master for the Maker’s sake. He had more important things to worry about than her feelings.

Dumb dumb feelings. Dumb love bullshit. Love? Fuck, Hawke was in deeper than she thought. She thought about the first time they’d sparred together, about how they fought side by side, about the things they’d shared and the smiles exchanged. How happy he’d looked when Hawke helped him learn how to read. 

Aranea dragged a hand over her face. She wanted to be with him right now. She wanted to help him, share his pain if she could. 

“Don’t comfort me,” he had told her. She felt the indignance rear its ugly head, especially at what he said a bit later.

“What does magic touch that it does not spoil?” He had spat. Hawke winced visibly again, feeling even now her magic coursing through her veins. Something she could not be rid of, maybe similarly as his lyrium tattoos. His eyes had softened then though, as if he had realized his hurtful generalization and what it meant to the person he’d thrown it at. He left then, leaving Hawke to get back to town by herself. They had taken no one else with them, Hawke knew it would be personal, and ugly. But she was glad to defer to him regarding the fate of Hadriana, and shared his satisfaction when the wicked woman was dead.

The scene replayed in her head over and over, and she had no idea what to do. For him or for herself. He had cut her deep with his words, and she was unable to offer any solace to help. Her mind’s eye simply showed his back as he walked away from her in the end, over and over again. 

Maker, she hoped he was doing okay. Hawke was worried, she hadn’t seen nor heard from him since, but she couldn’t bring herself to go to him. 

Footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Fenris as if he simply walked out of her thoughts and became tangible in her doorway.

He didn’t meet her eyes right away but raised them to her when she called his name quietly.

“Fenris,” she breathed and walked to him slowly. He met her halfway taking slow, deliberate strides. 

“I’ve been thinking about what happened with Hadriana,” he said outright and Hawke felt her heart skip a beat.

“Me too,” she admitted quietly. He met her eyes, and she saw affection mixed with guilt there. He continued,

“I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was… not myself. I’m sorry.” 

Hawke blinked, feeling warmth spread in her chest, calming the anxiety that had sat there for a few days. She smiled softly. She wanted to reach out to him, but he having ripped his shoulder away from her during the incident currently being discussed, she didn’t want to invade his personal space again. 

“It’s okay… I forgive you,” was her response, “And I’m sorry for… not being as understanding as I could have been. I just… I had no idea where you went. I was concerned.” 

He sighed, regret passing over his face, “I needed to be alone,” Hawke thought that this would be his only answer, but he inhaled deeply and continued. 

“When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment. She would ridicule me, deny my meals, hound my sleep. Because of her status, I was powerless to respond, and she knew it.” 

His explanation was making her blood boil, Aranea detested those who preyed on people beneath them simply because they could. Any sympathy she may have had for the woman dissipated immediately. 

“The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now…. I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” 

Aranea’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean?” 

He sighed, “This hate…. I thought I’d gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again, to know it was they who planted it inside me…. it was too much to bear.” 

Hawke nodded sympathetically. She could relate intimately, “I understand. And I am always here to talk. I care.” She did, she cared so much, she wanted to help him however she could. 

Fenris sighed again, “I didn’t come here to burden you further.” He was still angry with himself, he turned to leave. Hawke didn’t want him to leave, she wanted him to stay. He didn’t have to be alone during this unless he truly wanted to be. 

He turned to leave, having not come to dump his problems on her. He’d done nothing to make her want him to leave, though, and she stepped forward without thinking.

“You don’t need to go, Fenris…” she called out, her fingers barely brushing the skin of his elbow before he turned swiftly. His tattoos flashed against his skin. His hands at her shoulders, he pushed her back to the wall not far behind her and she barely had time to cry out in surprise, though he did not frighten her - she didn’t think he would hurt her. They stood there for a moment, breathing heavy. 

“I-I’m sorry,” she breathed, staring up into his pained expression that settled there just after he’d lost control. He looked guilty.

“No, do not apologize I….” he did not move away, they breathed hard together from the exhilaration. Hawke’s eyes flicked to his lips. They stood there, she crowded against the wall by his body. She bit her lip, a habit, and his eyes followed the movement. She could almost feel his heartbeat in time with hers. The heat of his skin, so close, made her want to touch him. 

They were silent, staring into each other’s eyes suddenly. Hawke felt herself speak words without even thinking. Something she’d wanted to say to him for a while. Every time he brushed her as he passed, every time they’d been in a similar position due to sparring, though horizontal. Well. They could be horizontal soon. Or vertical. Either way. 

“You can kiss me,” she whispered finally, “Please. Kiss me.” 

After her consent was made tangible in her words, he complied. His lips slotted against hers and their first kiss was desperate, full of longing, Hawke could only hope that he thought about her as much as she thought about him. Her hands came to rest on the shoulders of his armor, leaning into him. 

“Is this a dream?” She murmured against his lips, before feeling her face go scorching as soon as she realized what she had said. Quick think of something witty, Hawke. 

His bangs tickled her forehead as he pulled his lips away briefly to answer, “I hope not,” he rumbled back, though immediately resumed kissing her, and she felt his hips press against hers. Oh, this was… straight out of one of her daydreams. If this was indeed a trick of the Fade, she didn’t want to wake up. 

Her arms snaked around his neck, kisses becoming less longing and more heated. Hawke hadn’t had an overabundance of experience in this department but Fenris had even less, and their kisses were sloppy but perfect. Teeth clicked against each other initially but they found their rhythm. Their enthusiasm made up for it. Hawke wanted to kiss him breathless. 

He suddenly pulled away, her lips chased his, he kissed her softly again to show he wasn’t rejecting her but said, “I’ve been thinking about you.” 

Hawke felt her heart soar, “Yes, me too. I think about you all the time.” 

He smiled softly, “I have been able to think of little else,” he admitted, “But… command me to go and I shall.” 

Incredulousness passed over Aranea’s face, he felt just as insecure as she did. Maybe this wasn’t real, maybe this wasn’t what she wanted too. But she did, she wanted him to be with her so bad that it hurt. She’d never felt this way about a man before, never felt something deep in her chest instead of just passing intrigue. Hawke decided to be straightforward and honest, most unlike her.

“No, no, stay. Please stay?” He had begun to misinterpret her pause for hesitance and tried to pull away, “If you want to go, I would never stop you. But please stay if you want to, I-“

She didn’t quite get to finish that sentence. His lips were back with a fervor, confidence restored knowing that she wanted this as much as he did. A knee slotted between her thighs, her hands carded through his hair. He smelled divine. He was intoxicating her every sense. His knee pressed against her, her eyelids fluttered. 

Her boldness coming forth once she felt his passion, she gripped his shoulders and turned the tables, pressing him into the wall. He moved with her, his arms curling around her waist and one dipping lower to get a handful of her ass. Aranea pressed her body against his, ignoring the armor between them. 

“Fenris…” she sighed against his lips, and he squeezed her waist as if to answer. His teeth caught her lip, she moaned quietly and responded with a teasing flick of her tongue against his. Their kiss deepened, it was messy and felt inexperienced on both their parts, but it was perfect. 

She pulled away this time, and it was his turn to chase after her. He was strong, but she slipped from his grasp. Her face was flushed, her pupils blown wide, and she beckoned him forward with a crook of her fingers and a sly grin. He reached for her, but she slipped away again playfully. She was leading him to her room, laughing as a frustrated look crossed his face as she kept just out of his reach. 

“Hawke,” he called, voice low. Ah he was much less patient to her antics now. The look on his face caused her heart to hammer in her chest. She turned and beckoned to him again, leading him to her room where they were less likely to be walked in on. Her friends tended to show up unannounced. Much like how this encounter started. 

“Come get me,” she cooed boldly, taking the stairs up to the master bedroom. She threw a heated glance over her shoulder before disappearing into her room.

Fenris stalked after her, eyes glinting and a smirk playing at his lips. He walked with determination. He moved fluidly, with purpose and strength. A goddamn panther. She had gotten much better at sparring with him, which translated to this moment, as she just barely pulled away from his grasp every time. But she wanted to be caught this time, and if he threw her to the bed she would not complain at all. She disappeared through the threshold of her quarters. The low light of the lit fire made shadows dance across her face and his. He discarded his broadsword at the door. 

Once he entered her room, she shut the door and immediately found herself pressed against it, his front to her back. His cock pressed against the leather of his pants and she could feel it on her ass as he pressed his lips to the side of her face. Her heart hammered against her chest. Aranea rubbed her thighs together, seeking friction. 

“Got you,” he murmured against her ear and she gasped at the sensation of his breath. A shiver went down her spine. He chuckled in her ear and slowly kissed down the side of her neck. A whine from the back of her throat at his ministrations had him gripping her tighter. 

“Exactly my plan,” she purred, grinding her ass backwards and making him groan deliciously, the sound suddenly making her way too hot, “Now get me on that bed pronto.” 

Fenris happily obliged, placing his hands on her hips and leading her backwards. She turned in his grasp, stretching up to kiss him as they approached the side of her bed. He sat, and she kneeled to straddle his hips. She helped him strip some of his armor, he was still wearing nearly the entirety of it. The chain mail under his breast plate, his gauntlets. It was kinda hot in a way, but she wanted to touch him if possible. If possible. She knew his markings may not make it possible.

“Can I?” She murmured, fiddling with the straps of his gauntlets. He hesitated for a moment before nodding. 

“Please, if it hurts, tell me,” she whispered, pulling the straps loose and shucking the gauntlets. His boots next. He was left in chainmail and thick leather, to which she made quick work of with his help. 

Leaning back to place his chest plate and top garment on the floor, she looked back to marvel at him. Awed, her hands roamed his bared skin, he was left in just his pants. She was in her robe, with just a thin slip underneath. 

Aranea smiled, “If you need to stop, tell me,” she reminded him again, pressing kisses to the brands on his hands and made her way up his arms to his collarbone. His hands settled on her waist again and his groaned low as she sucked a bruise into his skin. Her fingers followed the kisses she had left behind, tracing the barely raised lines of lyrium covering his body.

“Don’t stop,” was his answer, and she could oblige though she remained alert for signs of discomfort or pain. He had never done this before, she had. Just because she had feelings for him did not mean she was going to take advantage of his inexperience. His enthusiastic consent was sexier than anything else, his hands found her ass, fingers brushing against bare skin as her robe rode up. One hand stayed there while his other traced up and down her spine. 

She kissed up from his collar bone, up his neck where she paid special attention to hear his breath hitch and feel his hips cant up. She gasped in his ear when he ground against her just right, both of them seeking friction. Aranea found his lips again, and they moved against one another as they shared more kisses. They were getting better, less clumsy and awkward, finding their mutual rhythm. 

She leaned back momentarily, to untie the sash of her robe. He took the opportunity to watch her undress, and she flushed at the attention. But as she shrugged off the garment and it slipped to the floor, revealing the thin black nightgown underneath, the look on his face was worth it. Fenris gazed at her with a mix of reverence and heat. 

He surged up to pepper kisses on her newly exposed skin, his teeth dragging against her collarbone and she shivered at the feeling. He held her close, hands massaging her sides as he nipped her, then sucked a mark into her neck to match the one she’d so generously given him a bit earlier.

“Fenris…” she sighed as his tongue laved over the fresh mark, the gentle action contrasting with the desperation they’d been acting with. Their eyes met as he pulled away to look at her. They remained there, motionless for a moment, just looking at one another.

“You are… so beautiful,” he whispered, and Aranea smiled, her canine catching her bottom lip in the process. Her hands at his shoulders, she pushed him gently down to the bed, leaning over him. 

“You are beautiful,” was her response as she pressed her lips against his fervently. He took the opportunity, his hands on her waist, to flip them, pressing Hawke into the mattress with his body. Her hands went to his hair, tugging softly as he explored her again. Down her neck, nips and kisses until he reached her chest. He pressed his lips against the tops of her breasts. 

She was breathing hard as he looked up at her, his gorgeous eyes glinting with the light of the fireplace. 

“Can I….?”

She tossed her head impatiently, “Yes, yes, please, yes. Rip it, I don’t care just…”

Oh, she didn’t expect him to take her literally. The flimsy material gave way quickly to his strength. Hawke’s thighs rubbed together as the action absolutely made her ache. Her panties were soaked, she could feel his cock against her thigh as he straddled her. 

“Fuck that’s hot,” she whispered as the ruined fabric fell from her shoulders and he threw it behind him with her robe. 

He drank in the sight of her in just her knickers, a black pair that contrasted beautifully with her skin, “I would have to agree.” Hawke laughed breathlessly at his compliment. 

He continued his path that had been stopped by offending garments, and kissed at her breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, passing his tongue over the sensitive bud until she arched her back up to him. 

“No experience, huh?” She asked in disbelief as he gave the same attention to the other side, his other hand brushing lower and tracing the line of her panties.

“I told you. I have thought about little else,” was his reply, “I… thought many times about this. What it would be like. What I’d like to do to you, and you to me.” 

His honesty was hot, to know he had thought of her… the way she had admittedly thought of him. Their mutual unawares pining, their separate build up to this moment. It was exhilarating. No one…. well, she’d never wanted someone for very long. Usually Hawke’s trysts were short lived, she saw, she wanted, she got, she left. Seemed to work for the people she’d been with before. Easier that way. No strings. 

But here there was more. Time was spent exploring things that had only been wanton thoughts. She could feel his care in every touch and she wanted to offer him the same. 

“Me, too,” was her stuttered answer as he kissed lower, lips brushing her taunt stomach, tongue swiping just above the hem of her undergarments. Fingers tucked underneath the band, pulling them down and off as she wriggled impatiently. He moved slowly, deliberately, and obviously was teasing his impatient lover. He slipped to his knees on the floor, unperturbed, pulling her to the edge and fitting her thighs over his shoulders. She cried out as he kissed at the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, moving closer to where she desperately needed attention.

“Fenris I swear to Andraste, stop teasing me,” she groaned, causing him to chuckle and trace his tongue further up. It was his turn to push her buttons, and he was savoring every moment in revenge for her game of sexy tag earlier. He nipped at her thighs again, and she cried out desperately. 

“Please.”

Well, since she asked so nicely. Fenris looked up at her, locking eyes with her as he finally stroked his tongue through her folds. It was intense, she couldn’t look away. One of her hands fisted in his hair. He rested his arms underneath her ass, hands gripping her hips and holding her close. She squirmed at his slow pace, but he held her hips still to keep her from bucking into him too harshly.

Her cries increased in volume as he continued to explore her, and when he sucked her clit she called his name so deliciously that he went at with even more enthusiasm, eager to hear it again and again. His arms pulled out from under her, one hand still flattened across her belly to control her movement, and in short order he pressed a finger into her, then two. He fucked her slowly with his fingers, increasing his pace and then slowing down to keep her on the precipice. Her eyes closed but he kept watching her, entranced. 

Sweet fucking Andraste, just his fingers were driving her wild. How many times had she thought about this? And it was better than anything she could have dreamt up. She opened her eyes to slits and found his eyes trained on her face. Hot.

“Fenris, I’m going to come,” she huffed, and he pulled away just a bit to speak, increasing the pace of his fingers to compensate and causing her back to arch again.

“Then come,” he said simply, and his voice sent a thrill through her body. She obeyed. 

The pleasure coiling in her snapped, and she came on his lips with a loud cry of his name that echoed on the stone walls of her room. He didn’t let up, he continued through it, not allowing her to squirm away as he prolonged it as long as he could. He wondered if he could get her to come again if he kept at it.

Hawke looked at him under hooded eyelids as she came down, chest heaving. She twitched a little with oversensitivity and he stopped. 

“Are you really sure that you’ve never done anything like that before?” She panted as he slid back up her body, wiped his dripping mouth and chin on his arm, and smirked. 

“Rather sure, not that I remember, anyways,” Fenris responded, and she suddenly felt guilty. Oh, right. He truly wouldn’t be able to tell her for sure because of his past, the memories he lacked. 

“I’m sorry….” she whispered, kissing him gently. He shrugged.

“Do not dwell, it is fine,”

She nodded, not wanting to ruin this moment. She smiled mischievously as she felt his unattended need pressing her leg again. Well, there were plenty of memories to be made. Here, now, in this moment. Together. She was determined to make him feel as good as he had done for her. 

“Your turn, then,” she whispered, her hand reaching downward to cup him through his leathers. He hissed at the contact, she could feel him throbbing. Their vigor was renewed, her heart quickened again knowing how much he wanted this. Wanted her. 

“Do you… want to go further?” She made sure to ask, and he nodded, kissing her fervently.

“If you do,” was his answer, and she nodded in agreement. She helped him out of his breeches, and freed him from the tight confines. Immediately she wrapped her hand around him, softly jerking her wrist and causing him to groan softly. 

Hawke did see that the markings did not extend to his dick. One question answered. 

She intended to make him as loud as she had been, hopefully not waking the entire house in the process but honestly, she didn’t really care right now. Hawke wanted to hear him. 

She smoothed her thumb over the tip and increased her pace, his hips canting into her hand. He looked her in the eyes, she grinned wickedly. Stopping for a moment, she pulled him further onto her large bed, and pushed him down on the pillows. 

“Is this okay? I’d like to… uh… well. Ride you.,” not so eloquent but she figured as he was new to this, she could take the reins. 

“I’m all yours,” he promised, and Hawke felt her heart soar. As much as she was used to no-feelings sex, as much as they wanted each other it wasn’t just sexual attraction, she could feel it. She wanted this for more than to scratch an itch. She was a physical person, craving touch and love, Hawke wanted to express it this way as well. She craved him, in every sense of the word. Hawke didn’t realize how far gone she was. But seeing it reflected in his eyes back at her, she couldn’t help but want more. 

She fought the urge to say something mushy like return the sentiment. But as she straddled his waist, it was evident in her eyes as she locked them with his. 

Despite her fight to keep her words in check, she sighed, “And I’m yours.” She pushed two fingers into herself, steadying herself with her other hand on his shoulder. 

A mix of emotions crossed his face as he realized what she was doing, she grinned, breathless, as she added a third. As soaked as she was, he was big and she hadn’t had sex with a man for at least a year. 

Hawke panted as she found her own sweet spot and cried out. While this was supposed to just prepare her for the next event, she couldn’t help but put on a little of a show. It was who she was, and using his powerful thighs and core to hold herself up while she fisted her own hair and said his name. 

“Hawke…” he groaned, he looked almost reverent as he watched her pleasure herself, and his hands gripped her hips tight. She loved it. She hoped to see ten little bruises there in the morning. 

“What’s my name?” She cooed, taking his cock into her hand and pushing the tip teasingly against her folds. 

“Aranea,” he corrected himself. It was strange but invigorating. So few people referred to her by her first name. She didn’t mind being known as Hawke, it was rather striking, but even her closest friends referred to her as such. It made her feel... displaced. Unreal. Like the name distanced herself from them, a symbol, not a person. 

Hearing her name, her name, made her shiver. They groaned in unison as she seated herself fully on him. He sat up, holding her hips and supporting her as her arms slung over his shoulders as she started pace.

Fenris’ hips jerked up to meet hers as she rode him, and he drove into her powerfully. She had meant to take the lead but he was learning… fast. He was louder than he was before, and with her chest pressed closer to his, she could feel his moans rumbling in his chest. 

“Aranea,” he groaned, ducking his head to capture her lips. Her hands wandered, absentmindedly tracing the lyrium tattoos on his chest, across his back, down his arms. Her hands found his, and she laced their fingers, slowing down their pace to a slower roll of the hips, her thumbs caressing his hands and her teeth nipping at his lips playfully. 

His eyes snapped open, staring into hers. She felt like he could see her soul in that moment, sweet friction building between them, their hands intertwined. She smiled breathlessly, and he returned it, and snapped his hips up faster. He wanted to see her fall apart for him again, and she wanted to watch bliss cover his usually so serious features. 

“Fenris… you’re… perfect,” she panted, “Absolutely perfect.” 

He pressed his forehead to hers, snapping his hips particularly hard and causing her to groan, losing her words. She generally talked too much anyways. 

“Aranea, you are incredible,” came his reply, “Marvelous.” He slipped his fingers from hers, grabbing her hips to flip them over. They’d done this a lot, not so much fighting for, but sharing dominance and control. She honestly would love to hand it all over to him during sex sometime though. His hands returned to hers once she was sprawled out on her back, pressing the backs of her hands into the mattress and driving into her with new force. 

“Fuck, fuck,” she chanted, legs coming up to wrap around his hips. She moved her hips in tandem with his, desperately wanting to feel more of him. All of him.

After a moment he slowed, still thrusting into her but at a measured pace, almost pulling all the way out before giving her his entire length in one stroke. He opened his eyes to look into hers again, his hands still holding hers above her head against the bed. She wanted to touch him, but the meeting of their eyes was more intimate than anything else she could do. 

“You are marvelous, oh my fucking… Maker,” 

“No need for such formality, Aranea. You can simply call me Fenris.” Oh he was gonna be cheeky now, huh? Aranea barked a laugh. 

“Did you hear that line in some sleazy bar story?” She teased, and he snapped his hips into her sharply, causing her to yelp at the sudden jolt of pleasure from the change of pace. 

“Maybe.” Was his answer and Hawke grinned up at him, stretching her neck up to press her lips to his. It was sweet, and slow, like the pace Fenris was keeping up. They savored one another like a delicious treat, like they were precious, absolutely precious. Their friendship was not lost in the bedroom. It was so refreshing, and so fun. Comfortable. Hawke wanted to do this for hours. She wanted to get on her knees for him and lazily suck his cock. She wanted him against the wall, on the floor, from behind. Everything, and more.

She wanted him. Every part of him. Hawke would walk through fire with him at her side and make a stupid joke while doing it. 

Their kiss turned from soft and slow to nips and playful tongues to messy and desperate and hot. Scorching. Hawke’s hands squeezed his as he kept them pinned above her head as he fucked her in earnest. Gone was slow and deliberate. 

“This is what I wanted you to do to me so many times after we sparred,” she admitted in a rush and he pulled back to stare at her. 

Fenris smirked, “Is that so?” He asked in a most delicious voice. It slid over her skin as he gave her a sharp thrust, making her cry out again.

“Yesss…” she admitted through gritted teeth. 

“Tell me.” 

Aranea shivered at his tone. She responded almost immediately to the commanding note.

“I wanted you to fuck me right there on the court. Every time you pulled away I wanted to pull you back. Suck you off. Ride you. 

Their groans mingled, Aranea met every thrust with her hips once more. Fenris kissed down her face quickly and dug his teeth into her neck. Fuck she liked that. He made a mental note. 

“Fenris, yes.”

He chuckled against her ear, his breath made her shiver and whine, high pitched. Desperate. 

“I love it when you say my name, Aranea.” Maker, his voice was intoxicating. Beautiful. How could he sound so put together when she was a mess? He went back to the task at hand, his teeth leaving marks down the junction of her shoulder to her ear. 

“I wanted this too. I couldn’t get you out of my head. I still can’t. I don’t think I ever will.” He admitted and she felt her heart swell, and his next words made her groan, “I want to hear you scream my name. I want to make you come over and over. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought the same - every time it was nearly impossible for me to pull away from you.” 

She hadn’t expected him to be very talkative in bed, but she definitely was not complaining. He seemed to have noticed how much she liked it when he talked to her. So many people thought sex was this serious business. No talking just fuck each other. Some thought it embarrassing. 

Hawke loves to talk in all occasions, we all know this, so naturally she talked a lot during sex. She loved that he was vocal. Responded to her. Had fun with her. Joked, teased, goaded. Anonymous sex wasn’t like this, as fun as it could be. It was different. Hawke liked this better. 

“Feeling is m-mutual,” she agreed, though she had trouble finding her words with his tongue tracing the shell of her ear. He was exploring her even now. He whispered her name against her ear and her eyelids fluttered. A shock went down her spine. She inhaled sharply and he smiled against her ear, knowing that it was her reaction to him - and only him. 

“Fenris,” was her only response, the only word she could remember as she forgot her own. One of his hands finally let go of one of hers, quickly reaching between their bodies to rub quick circles onto her clit. She cried out at the friction, it was pulling her over the edge again. 

Her free arm went over his shoulder, fingernails digging into his skin and making him hiss. 

Fenris’ groans were growing to match hers, they were both desperately reaching for release. His hand lost rhythm and his hips stuttered, and Hawke’s eyes flew open to watch his face as he hit his peak.

It was a crescendo, he called her name and bit into her shoulder as he came. The view and sharp, sweet pain from his teeth were enough to finally put her over the edge as well, and she answered, nearly screaming his name as her body clenched desperately around his cock. 

They held each other, Aranea thought that she actually saw stars as he fucked her through it.. Her moans and whines mingled with his, and mutual whispers of each others’ names. It took a moment for them to come back, shivering from overstimulation.

They were silent besides their heaving breaths, Fenris finally pulled back to look at Aranea’s satisfied expression. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers again. 

“Wow.” She panted as he released his hold on her wrists. 

“Agreed. Wow.” Was his response. His eyes found the dark marks he’d left with his lips and teeth on her neck and shoulder and concern blossomed on his features.

“I didn’t hurt you…?” He asked hopefully, and Hawke shook her head quickly. 

“Not in any way I didn’t love, Fenris,” she assured him, “Thank you for asking, though. Did I do anything you didn’t like?” 

He shook his head, her legs loosened from his hips and he collapsed at her side. They were spent. Aranea turned to face him, and he pressed his forehead against hers. She brushed her lips against his gently, loving the feel of him surrounding her and wanting to share affection openly.

In a moment, he broke the silence, “What about, uh… I mean,” his awkward tone had Hawke catching on real fast. He had come inside of her, it was dripping down her thighs as she laid with him. She didn’t mind. 

Hawke shrugged. Well. “It’s alright, I can’t get pregnant. Never got my monthly.” It wasn’t entirely rare but it was rarely talked about. Some people born with uteruses simply never began their monthly and would never bear children. Not that Aranea had ever actively tested this with trying to conceive on purpose but doctors always told her that without her monthly she wouldn’t be able to. She didn’t like the word barren, it made her feel broken. It was simply one thing that Aranea Hawke could never do. And that was that. 

Fenris blinked and nodded. He did not offer sympathies, there were none needed. Her mother remained distraught to this day, and always held out hope, but Hawke accepted it long ago. The meaning of her life wasn’t boiled down to her progeny. What she did in her lifetime is what mattered. Besides, she was basically Kirkwall’s mother. Always cleaning up messes. 

Instead of dwelling, they basked in the afterglow. Hawke twining her fingers with his, felt exhaustion overtake her. It had been late when he arrived, and they had thoroughly tired each other out.

Besides, if they stayed up much longer Hawke might say something stupid like ‘I think I love you.’ 

She snuggled up next to him, their skin cooling together but she didn’t mind the sweat. 

“I’m a cuddler, if that’s okay,” she yawned, and missed the gentle smile that ghosted over his lips. His arm slipped underneath her as she turned, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. They were sticky but again, who gives a fuck. 

Hawke was asleep quickly, and a deeply troubled look crossed Fenris’ face. While he was… immeasurably happy, there was more below the surface. He had remembered, which made their tryst so much more intimate. He had remembered. 

***

Aranea awoke missing something. But what? Her Mabari, Xena? No, not quite. She stretched out her fingers and found no purchase besides her sheets. What…. what was she looking for? 

Her eyes flew open. Fenris. 

She turned over, and spotted him leaned against the mantle of the fireplace on one arm, completely dressed in his armor. Hawke’s brow furrowed. What…. had she done something wrong? A bubble of panic built in her chest.

But of course she approached the situation with sarcasm, “Was it that bad?” She joked, sitting up.

Fenris turned look at her and it all was suddenly worse, “No, that’s not it… it was… fine,” he supplied. Hawke’s face fell, she knew it. She looked away, towards the floor. How fucking embarrassing…. it was ‘fine’. 

“No that is insufficient,” Fenris continued, seeing the upset look form on her face. Her eyes didn’t flick back to him, feeling shame creep up her back and over her shoulders. 

“It was better than anything I could have dreamed.” Fenris didn’t lie, not to her, she could always hear a note of honesty in his voice. It often bordered on bluntness but Hawke has a similar issue with her endless sarcasm. 

She had worried about touching him, his markings. She bit her lip, eyes darting back and forth before she met his eyes again, “Your markings, they hurt don’t they.”

“It’s not that,” Hawke’s heart dropped into her stomach. His tone was becoming regretful. Whatever it was that had caused this… it must have been her. Something she did. “I started to remember my life before. Flashes. This is too much. It’s too fast. I cannot…. do this.” 

Hawke was right, it felt like a punch to the gut. She had fallen asleep so happy, excited to wake up next to him and go for round two. To kiss him. Nuzzle her face into his chest, leave marks from his neck to his hips. 

She knew feelings were dangerous and this was exactly why. Hawke cursed herself for even allowing them to fester in her heart. 

“We can work through this,” her voice sounded more assured than she felt. She couldn’t bear it if she cried in front of him. It would be immensely embarrassing. Hawke didn’t want to show any weakness now. She couldn’t bear a look of pity crossing his face. Her tears were best saved for later.

“I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. All I wanted was to be happy. Just for a little while. Forgive me.” He turned from her, didn’t see as her hand just barely reached out as if to stop him. 

But as she said yesterday, if he wanted to go she would never stop him. Hawke would never, could never, force someone to be with her, no matter how much she wanted them. She said nothing, just watched his back as he left. 

Hawke could relate to what he had said before he left. She just wanted to be happy, find one fucking slice of real happiness in her life. Sister dead, brother a Templar, father dead, the hopes and dreams of Kirkwall starting to build on her shoulders. It was a lot to bear alone. As self-sufficient as Hawke was, she wanted a partner. She couldn’t discount the rest of her friends for a stupid romantic interest but. Fenris made her feel like she could handle it all and more. She wanted him beside her, besides being an excellent combative team they made a good pair of friends as well. She wanted him to be with her, friend or further. 

The last few days had been so emotionally taxing, and she had held it together for so long. But for him to walk away from her again, after everything that had transpired…. Her heart ached pitifully. She had held it all back but now it was as if the dam had broken. 

Tears started rolling down her cheeks, her hands not even lifting to wipe them away. Hawke resigned herself to the fact that that’s all he would be. If anything - he would be her friend. That had to be enough. It would be enough. She could never discount any of her friends, regardless of stupid, misplaced romantic feelings. 

It was hard to make herself believe that she would be fine when her quiet tears turned to broken sobs and whimpers. She tried to convince herself that they weren’t selfish tears. When Leandra knocked on her door, Aranea didn’t answer. She feigned sleep until it overtook her, crying herself into a deep dreamless oblivion. 

When she awoke, she stared at the bruises on her hips, the marks and evidence of their union she had relished the night before, and turned away with tears starting anew. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> WHEW. I wrote this uhhhh over like three months of constant screaming and editing. And this is only part one of three. What the fuck am I doing.
> 
> Fun story im in my last semester of college so IDK when the next third will happen. I’m already working on it but uhnnhhhlfkfkafkjhflksjdfeo I have my capstone and three other classes and work and this is just for funzies and Jess doesn’t get funzies anymore this semester because academia is a bitch.
> 
> Would Fenris have lasted that long if he was a virgin? Certainly not. But it’s porn my dudes we all gotta push the envelope sometimes. FIrst time prolly would be way more awkward but yknow idgaf it was too fun to write.
> 
> Im ace as fuck idk how sex works. 
> 
> Also I can’t believe the smut was so long but I’m also not even sorry. 
> 
> Also also always pee after sex dudes don’t be like them if u don’t want a UTI. There’s some free life advice. 
> 
> Also also also not sorry for Hawke unable to have kids. It’s a headcanon that’s always made sense to me. And also I personally can’t do the thing and we all project our shit onto characters we write. Don’t feel pity tho I’m cool w it and big reminder that not all ppl with a uterus can have or want to have crotch fruit 
> 
> Part two when? Who knows but I hope u enjoyed this dumpster fire - feel free to leave comment or whatever I’m always here for that constructive criticism.


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